Phil Smith Poems

They are the Baby Boomers
Born to reunited families
Split by the war
A baby boom
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They're building a BMX track
Can I go and look asked Leon
What the hell is BMX I thought
His arrival home covered in dirt
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Oh body what have you done
I always fed you
Washed you
What is the meaning of this
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What is the future of this nation
In worse shape than you could imagine
Decadence abounds
Politicians are all clowns
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The house needed paint
Kids said it was haunted
Nobody had lived there for years
At 21 Hammill Street
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There is one we love
We worship and adore him
He created the World the Universe
He gave us his only son
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The sun high in the sky
A sky of pure blue
A slight breeze
Keeping me cool
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She slammed the door
I'd heard it before
Every month she is cranky
This is that time
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An equal opportunity employer
Their trades women and men
Work shoulder to shoulder
Each carrying their load
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Brown clouds rose in the east
Thunder rolled across the plains
A storm was fast approaching
The village was in it's path
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