Jimmy Boom Semtex older poems

 

My Teen Years

If you knew of what I went through in my teens, what would you say?

Being bullied at school and having to learn how to fight.

Not being able to get a girlfriend, so insecure and more.

The male lovers, how wrong it was to experiment.

Getting a big fat girl pregnant, my first time.

Having deep depression and suicidal thoughts.

I should have been a pilot but wasn't; low grades, bad eyesight and a discipline problem.

Being bullied some more while working in garages.

Doing the wrong job was wrong wrong wrong, I was lost lost lost!

Racing cars on the street, many crashes and damage.

Cost me my hell job and almost my life in one crash.

My dad's past added to my strife, revealed by a friend.

Looking back, what do I make of all this now?

It still bothers me but I can tell the world I survived.

 

 

 

Memorial

There are a few facts I know.

You weren't happy at that moment.

I controlled you, puppet on a string.

You never had my friendship.

Except on bank jobs.

You never had three decades of her in your life.

I get this info from your letter to me.

Why not email like other people?

Did you want to be different?

Leaving a physical written reminder of your discord.

It doesn't matter now, not to me.

I informed the thought police.

You're a wanted man.

Not by me; by them.

Especially if you write me again.

Pain will be your friend.

Not mental anguish but broken bones.

Do me a big favour cus and do one.

Your letter reminds me of you and a certain girl.

If she knew of your feelings and actions, would she cry?

No, because I'd shoot her.

Then marry her sister and have a family.

I'd name our kids after you both.

Maybe I'll do that anyhow.

Call it a memorial to you and your ruined legacy.

Goodbye fading memory, gangster no more.

I'm victorious and have got all the loot.

 

 

 

Only One (for the unnamed babies aborted in Red China)

The Red Chinese authorities strictly enforced their one child policy.

One young lady felt her baby kick regularly.

This child will be a strong one.

Not to be!

At eight months old her baby was terminated.

A bad abortion but successful.

Rule enforced, only one child allowed, not two.

You must follow the law!

Poor lady was shown her dead baby.

Sent her into shock and mental illness.

Now years later her mind is damaged.

She cries, My poor baby, they murdered him.

He was a human life, he kicked inside me.

Oh the karma!

It will repay you all for your rules and actions.

You took my baby's life before he ever lived.

Ironically, today a couple is allowed two children.

They changed the law.

 

 

 

Forgive Me Not

Forgive me not for this poem but how I feel.

The spark between us has gone.

Where I'm not sure?

I think we will soon part.

I'd let you go yesterday if I didn't love you.

I'm fed up of your moods and conflict between us.

I'm creative but you're not.

You say all artists should live on Mars.

I want to go when I fall out of love with you.

You say I'm a bad husband cos I don't work.

I start my new job in January.

It will help money wise but I know we won't change.

How can we?

It's who we are, conflicting stars aflame.

I want to be happy.

You don't want to be sad.

I try to prepare for the day when we die.

If only love could be turned off.

But that isn't possible, is it?

So I endure what we are, what is us.

And see what happens next.

I'm not looking forward to Xmas and want this nasty year to end.

I want it all to be better.

Did I make bad choices before?

Was fate toying with our lives?

Yes it was.

Just like now.

I blame love.

 

 

 

Off To Mars

All creative people are to live on Mars.

Imagine how cool it would be.

The aero/space program would be fucking awesome.

 

Designing spaceships to get there,

rockets like the nuclear powered engine,

space planes for going to the surface,

habitats to live in,

terraforming to make a breathable atmosphere and more.

 

When it's all sorted, then we write, sing, paint, sculpt.

Totally fucking awesome.

I'd also fly on Mars.

Gliders in the low grav sky...

 

 

 

Madness

I love you more than all the others.

For that reason you are special.

And I am mad.

For loving you this way.

 

 

 

Don't Want To

Don't want to love cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to write cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to travel cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to fight cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to drink cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to hide cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to sleep cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to party cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to work cos I'm stressed.

Don't want to dance cos I'm stressed.

What I do want is for this stress to fuck off!

 

 

 

Purrrfect Pussy

People think that guys want all the pussy they can handle.

When I'm asked if I want new pussy, the answer is NO!

I struggle to satisfy the one I've got.

In bed, financially, mentally etc.

One is enough, so no more thank you very much.

If new pussy had an on and off switch I'd dabble.

Turn it on when I want fun, off when I've done.

Maybe I should invent such a piece of pussy?

Then a guy can have a thousand and not get stressed.

Don't want earache?

Simply turn it off.

I'll start designing it now.

And get rich beyond all comparison.

Then empty my balls hassle free.

 

 

 

Sister Act

With a sister like mine

I don't need enemies

like you who hates me.

I'll give you my sister

as an Xmas gift.

On permanent loan.

See how you feel

with her moods and

anger turning you blue.

 

 

 

Wedded Bliss

At that point again with no nice deeds and bad bloody words.

They never seem to learn, here they are again at stress central.

Get the red flag out again, it's argument time for the unhappy couple.

Neighbours bang on the walls and turn their TVs up.

Even people outside can hear it, it's a right embarrassment!

 

When gunshots erupt, the row continues!

That can't be right?

Dead people don't argue.

Because they're fucking dead.

But this dead couple does.

 

Their fight goes on and on, remarkable when you consider the facts:

she blew his fucking head off and he cut her throat!

There's blood and brains everywhere but it still rages.

A dead couple arguing, love beyond the grave with no end in sight.

It will take a nuclear bomb to stop these crazy dead nutters.

 

 

 

Tondelayo

And so there...

 

There high above us was the High Squadron.

Their contrails were visible for miles.

Enemy Nazi fighters could, would, hide there.

We in the Middle Squadron watched them, they stalked us, out of 50 Cal range.

 

They waited...

 

We flew on in our B-17, named Tondelayo.

Little did we know that we would be attacked, soon.

 

And again on other flights.

 

20MM cannon shells would be found, unexploded, in our wing fuel tanks.

Inside one shell was not high explosive but a note; it said:

 

This is all we can do for now...

 

Later, they hit us.

Tondelayo ended up under the sea.

 

We barely survived.

 

We flew for the Mighty Eighth.

Don't ask our names...

Just remember what we did.

 

For Elmer Bendiner, his crewmates and their plane Tondelayo, a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress. Elmer wrote a stunning book. I read it in the 80s...