SGRECH Y COED

https://youtu.be/KAwZoVRYh2A?si=-W6oIAhLlTdXwFf-

The Thoughts of Chairman Daf

https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/dafydd-williams0

I carry a heaviness

 

I’m not talking about my weight.

I’ve mentioned that before.

I’m carrying a lethargy.

It’s not the time of year.

It’s not the commitments or my shadow.

I carry a responsibility to the people of Palestine

to do more than just tweet, to do more than just protest.

Shouting

“Free Free Palestine”

will not free it!

The West is like a rabbit in the lorry headlights.

We are frozen by Israel and its hysteria,

its name calling of antisemitism.

From being de-humanised themselves they are de-humanising others.

It was too much to expect that they could deal with the Holocaust.

They’ve turned that trauma into another one,

and are exacting a genocide upon the Palestinians.

They have a blood lust that will not be assuaged by the mealy-mouthed words of

Biden, Starmer & Sunak.

The man baby of Bibi was standing there in his black shirt.

He couldn’t wait for them to shut their mouths because he couldn’t wait,

to carry on the bombing  

The next time you enter a Hospital,

think about the al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza City and all who perished within.

I carry a heaviness.

This metered life

THIS METERED LIFE

 

It was National Poetry Day yesterday

but I forgot

so I’m writing this today.

The privatised water company want you to read their meter

The billionaire owned electricity company likewise.

The staples of life are all on a goddam reel going round and round

They’re taking the rain from the skies and selling it to you

with extra shit for the rivers.

The fossil fuels they're burning so you can turn on the nobs on the hob.

“The kettles turned on”

“Well stop twerking and dancing provocatively in front of it or the element will blow”

If you wanted to boil an egg in the old days you’d use a Sand Timer

an hour glass for 14 minutes

The sand falling through and the meter going round

that’s your life that is.

Paying others to be able to just exist

in this metered life. 

Wales will be my prison until my dying day

 

Wales will be my prison until my dying day

“But what about the rugby?” you say

“Exactly, you’ve made my point” I reply

“Posh bloke picks up a football in a school of the same name

now we’re all over the game like a rash, such a shame”

 

Wales will be my prison until my dying day

because they want us to speak Welsh and drive at 20 miles an hour

No wonder the llefrith/llaeth I drink leaves me feeling sour.

Church and Chapel hang heavy over our lives

The gossips make you feel that you’re living with a bunch of spies.

 

Wales will be my prison until my dying day

You dare not be different or espouse a different way to be

They immediately assume if you are not married that you are LGBT

Politically there’s populists and the woke, there’s the Brits and the Cymry

I’d like to strangle all of them, make them all croak

 

Wales will be my prison until my dying day

We’re joyless and lifeless forever looking at our botwm bol

A referendum for this, a petition for that and a march for the other

The well paid politicians are wondering about us

“Why do they all bother?”

 

 Wales will be my prison until my dying day

The law of “Thou shalt not” and “Don’t you dare” still hold sway

When the lights go down on the disco floor

When the wedding guests are sitting on the drunk best man, the bore

The next generation will be consumated before they’ve closed the door.

 

Wales will be my prison until my dying day

“Robert Page & Warren Gatland will show us how to play.

We don’t need no Bible or any religious book

as long as I can have a beer and a banter with the boys.

That is my best look.

 

Wales will be my prison until my dying day

You can shove your 'Yma o Hyd' and your 'Gwlad Gwlad' up your arse

Nationalism based on a race of people is such a fucking farce

You’re only moaning cos the English defeated your ancestors way back when.

The fact they’ve got a second home in your back garden is just fucking zen.

 

Wales will be my prison until my dying day

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again

“Oh put a sock in it mun” I hear you say

It will be my prison

because I was born on St David’s Day. 

When I was young I could eat pickled onions

When I was young I could eat pickled onions

 

When I was young I could eat pickled onions

I ate a whole jar

Now I would have to go and have a lie down if I ate just one

They’d give you Milk of Magnesia in years gone by for a dicky tum.

I’m nostalgic today for things I used to do without thinking

like bending down or turning round quickly.

We used to spin like tops as kids

I remember jumping off a garage roof

did my brain and spine know about that one?

They were telling me off for weeks.

I used to fall off walls and bang my head

and run in the house crying.

Humpty Dumpty had nothing on me.

Now I look like Humpty Dumpty whose had an extra dose of pudding.

Where do your treble chins come from

and the tyre around your waist?

My metabolism has slowed right down

I think it’s waiting for a starting gun.    

Watching what you eat is the pain when your old!

Coffee and Chocolate & Cheese & Fried Food

can lay me low for days.

Sitting up in bed like an old wallflower

So your acidic bile stays in a pile in your belly.

I can’t remember the last time I had strawberry jelly.

You could be a daredevil as a kid

as an adult the devil dares you on the daily and its best to just say no!

I know we are all going to die

but I’d rather go in bed with a hot water bottle and a cup of cocoa

than in a fast car smoking a hookah.

When I was young I could eat pickled onions.   

Why everyone you have ever known has only humoured you

 

Why everyone you have ever known has only humoured you

 

It has been a sneaking suspicion for quite some time

The tiredness in their eyes, the pained expression in their face, the false laugh

them looking at the clock and back at you.

“Right, you’ve had enough of me now”

is really

“I’ve had enough of you”

I’m a handful I know

Intense, big topics straight away

politics & mental illness hold sway.

They want to talk about themselves

but when you get to the meat of the matter

they look hot and bothered

in the middle of winter.

Some, have flat out refused to communicate

They just know that you 'have hate'

and will use it against them sooner or late.

I’m sure I was on the spectrum before it became a thing

alcohol & substances exacerbated the mood swing.

Now that I am old and bald and rely on my own inner core

it wont stop me from competing in the “World Politics Bore”

I could feel sorry for those who’ve had the misfortune to know me

but I’d really rather not.

I’ve only got so much compassion to go around

and this time it’s all going to be for me and not for those who humoured he

Sound!