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Friday, 10 October 2014

"Singapore Customs"

“What’s this?” crowed the officious
British ex-pat Customs Officer.
Looking down at my Army Issue
Machete strapped to my battered
Army Issue suitcase.

“You can’t bring that in ‘ere!
That’s a lethal weapon, that is!”

A more useless bit of kit is hard to imagine,
In it’s pressed cardboard sheath,
And it’s heavy riveted handle
That would cut and blister
A sweat soft hand to ribbons in minutes.
And it’s impossible to sharpen edge
Could hardly be called lethal.
Unless you wanted to batter something to death
With it’s blunt edge!

“You can’t bring that in ‘ere,
That’s a lethal weapon, that is!”

Luckily he hadn’t looked IN my suitcase!
He’d have found the Headhunter’s mandu,
Razor sharp, the machete I really carried on ops,
With it’s stylised hornbill handle with the beak
That curled round your little finger
And stopped the thing from flying out
Of a sweat wet or monsoon wet hand.
Or the quiver of poisoned blowpipe darts!
Now they really were lethal!

I wasn’t in the best of moods!
I’d been kicked out of my beloved Borneo
At a moment’s notice!
They’d thought to retain
My trusty 7.62 FN
But had returned my ‘personal weapon’.
And found me a last minute seat
On a Singapore Airlines flight!

And there I stood
In the bright lights of Singapore Airport.
Dirty, tired, in a pair of rotting jungle boots
And a set of Olive Greens
That hadn’t seen starch
Or the dhobi man’s iron
In far too long!
And I’d missed my tea!
And if this officious prat kept me much longer
It looked like I’d miss my supper too!

“You can’t bring that in ‘ere,
That’s a lethal weapon, that is!”

“What the fuck do you call this?” I asked politely,
Pointing to the ugly little Sterling sub-machine gun
They’d returned to me before I left,
Hanging round my neck like the eternal albatross!
And the full magazines hanging from my belt!
For me, Peace had broken out!

Copyright © Res JFB 10th October 2014

Friday, 19 September 2014

"The Death of A Hooray Henry"

"The Death of  A Hooray Henry"

She was an exquisite little flower,
And she never made a fuss,
When she hung about our billet,
And wanted to marry us!

But for once Old Tommy Atkins
Lived up to his better nature,
And we called her little sister,
And not a hand was laid upon her.

We gave her a camp bed in a corner,
And we guarded her that way,
And gave her little jobs to do,
So she could earn from day to day.

So she'd take and fetch our laundry
To the "Dhobi Girl' over the way,
And bring us mee hoon soup for tea,
And make herself useful every day.

And then some Hooray Henry,
Still white behind the knees,
Decided our little sister wasn't safe,
Among we licentious thieves!

So he had her taken to the Officers Mess,
And made her wait on tables, clean the silver plates.
And every night he'd fuck her,
And share her with his mates!

And then we heard him boasting,
How his little native whore,
Would suck and fuck him all night long
And still come back for more!

Last we heard of our little sister,
Who we'd protected for so long
She was broken and pregnant down by the docks,
And screwing for a song!

Our Hooray Henry didn't last,
Before his knees were brown ,
He died of snake-bite to the groin
And in a monsoon ditch he was found!

And there's some that said we done it!
But that just could not be right,
Because our beloved Captain Harkabir swore,
We were all on duty with him that night!

So again we licentious other ranks,
Proved what we had already sussed,
We were better men than the Public School scum,
Sent out to govern us!

0545 Saturday 20th September 2014
Copyright © Res JF Burman 20th September 2014

Thursday, 18 September 2014

"Misty Dreams"

The Magic Island
Is now lost in misty dreams
Of Autumn glories

Words and Photograph Copyright © Res JF Burman 18th September 2014

I've been busy in my attic workshop making a second storey for my hanging bookcase,
so I just HAD to take my little Ricoh camera up for the view across
Penzance & Mount's Bay to St Michael's Mount.

Sunday, 7 September 2014

"The Old Cormorant Fisherman"

"What do you know of the modern world?"
I asked the Old Cormorant Fisherman,
Fishing in the same way
His Father and Grandfathers
Had before him for centuries.

He thought for a moment 
And then replied comfortably,
"I know they still like to eat my fish!"

Words Copyright © Res JF Burman 7th September 2014
Photograph Copyright © China Art & Architecture

Monday, 25 August 2014

Hanging Bookshelf

When there are no walls
Left for all your bookshelves
Hang them from a beam

Copyright © Res JF Burman 25th August 2014

Saturday, 16 August 2014

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

Rest in Peace, Robin Williams

Rest in Peace
Robin Williams
I liked you well
Thank you for all the laughter
I am sorry for all your pain!

Picture ©

Thursday, 17 July 2014

Bamboo Whispers

Bamboo Whispers

When my lantern fails
Bamboos whisper directions
On my dark path home

Copyright © Res JF Burman 17th July 2014