I suspect there are going to be a number of aggravating aspects to the early part of the year. They will likely be compounded with later, more aggravating factors. In short, I anticipate the degree of vexation to be raised skyward by my diurnal activities. I suppose it will at the least inspire me to be more florid in my ejaculations of anger.
For me, a combination of bad planning (or what they call ‘high level planning’ without bothering to do the ‘low level planning’, i.e. planning the actual work itself), ignorance and a morbid lack of responsibility combine to cause a great deal of stress and risk for myself and those I work with. That’s to say nothing of the effect on service users. Oh well, this is a Conservative government (following an alt-Tory Labour government) after all and it’s hard to be surprised anymore by the ravaging insanity that spreads out from London. At what point do we stop caring at all? How long does it take before it’s not even annoying anymore?
Follow @shankanalia on Twitter for irregular poetic updates.
Shankery – Angry Poetry For Liars
Exceeding Expectations Like A Train
For fuck’s sake,
You can’t be this fucking dumb.
Your ignorance
Almost strikes me silent…
Except for this scream,
Waxing and waning
With pain.
Your Competence Leaves Me Speechless
You no facking worky-worky,
You some kinda facked up monkey
Tossin’ your filthy jerky
Like a fackin’ jism turkey:
Gobble spitting twat-finch flirty.
Coping With Frustration
You know, fuck it.
Just fuck it.
Fuck it all,
And fuck it up
Fuck it back
And fuck it sideways
Till it’s proper fucked-
Then fuck off
You fucking fuck.
Oak Aged Murder
I’d like to drown you
In whiskey
So I can taste your pain.
Down your suffering
Like a tonic;
Revitalising me
With your death juice.
You taste gritty.
Walk A Mile In Another Man’s Face
Kick you in the face
With gusto and whimsy,
Jab my foot inside your eye hole
And wear you like a shoe
With an inelegant heel
And bloody laces.
A Perfect Specification
Fit for purpose?
Fit for a punch.
As per design?
Designed by a twat.
Thoughtless,
Witless-
Fuckspoons for eyes;
Cocknut eared wanker.
Cockteeth.
Worse Than Fries
Stab you in your ignorant heart,
Split it like a lettuce.
Toss the leaves of your life
With a nice bloody vinaigrette
Of your happy memories.
More of The Same
- Shankaz’eroth: The Dead God of Bitter Verse (captainpigheart.com)
- Shankulation – The Screamery of Angry Poetry (captainpigheart.com)
- Shankania – The Nation State of Angry Poetry (captainpigheart.com)
- Shankchism – The Gash of Angry Poetry (captainpigheart.com)
