ALEKSANDR ORLOV AND SERGEI WATCHING ENGLAND IN RUSSIA 2018....SIMPLE!!!!!!
I am Aleksandr Orlov And I come from Meerkovo town, And every time I Watch the TV football - I always wear a frown.
I like to relax in my Mansion - and watch The England team play, But when it comes to Full time - I always feel Dismay!
Unlike Meerkovo in the Russia - where Sergei Plays so well, England could take more Notice - and fall under Sergei's spell!
I would like England to Do well in Russia - but I Am so very realistic, I'm afraid the England Players are NOT so Enthusiastic!
But England could hire Oleg and Sergei to offer Them much support, Or failing many Opportunity's - England Should escort!
We watch many times On meerkat TV - the England team play their Games, But they always play so Boringly, and no one Takes the blames!
So me and Sergei and Oleg will watch England From meerkovo - And as I steal Sergei's Popcorn - the England Team feel much sorrow!
But me and Sergei have Much anticipation - as Sergei plays with his Furry pimple. Will England win in Russia 2018 - and make it all Look so... SIMPLE!!!
Barefooted teenager Sliding D& G; watches Into a bag filled with Addidas shoes.
It's bonfire night in the cities Of England. Come out, children, To the heart of the city and Bleed it dry.
Betray your hunger, The greed that consumes you And the indifference bred into Your marrow.
Bred by despair and shiny Baubles in window displays And worn by all those Stars in those glossy mags.
It's a consumer's world; it's about Instant gratification, not hard work - Even if work could be found. But why work if you can steal?
Bonfire night. Like when we burn that Guy. Fawkes? He tried to destroy Parliament But teenage angst and thugs could do in a few nights What his barrels of gunpowder couldn't.
Alcohol and fags to last a Short lifetime. Shopkeepers in the way Should know better; You can't fight Irrationality. It has no conscience.
Murder, loot, burn like in those Movies about war, Grand Theft Auto, And a million other games. Just keep Moving so you never have to actually think.
But just in case, let's blame someone else: Let's blame race, the Met, politicians, The schools, the economy, parents - Society.
Burn, London. Burn, Birmingham, Burn, Manchester, Burn Liverpool. Burn, Gloucester. Burn, burn, burn, But let tomorrow be just another day.
Bonfire night. Every night. Till they put out the fires, Tend the wounded and Bury the dead.
THE NEW ENGLAND FOOTBALL TEAM MANAGER...SAM ALLARDYCE
The big bosses of the England FA, Have made their final decision, They've found a new boss for The England team position. They sat round a boardroom, Table scratching all their heads, Wondering who to appoint - When they'd rather be at home In their comfy beds!
Behold! Sam Allardyce, is now In the hot seat, And one thing is for sure - he Won't accept defeat. He worked well at Sunderland, They're in the Premier League. But why has his appointment Caused so much intrigue?
Has BIG Sam got a magic Wand - that will bring in some Classy players? Or will every game they do Play - all end in watery Tears? Big Sam has a massive task, That only he can repair. Will he make big changes - As he quietly says a prayer!
He really has a task ahead, To regain the nations trust. Winning more of their Matches really is a must. Like being the best in Europe, And even the best in the World. Can he bring the glory Years back - and end us all In a whirl!
We can't seem to get this Right, and England do need Some success. Will big Sam Allardyce be A success, of that I can only Guess. But we must look on the bright Side, and be more positive. And hope and pray Sam is The man - victory he will Achieve.
Let's now look to the future, For the new England manager. Big Sam Allardyce; 'but will he Need a prayer? ' I now raise my glass and drink A toast to Sam Allardyce: 'Good luck with the team' England, Sam, and to "WIN" a 'game' would Be NICE!!!
Can the England team now move Forward and conquer the football Elite? And win the coveted WORLD CUP - Now that really would be a treat. Hail! Hail! The new manager of The England football team, and What a lovely surprise. Ladies and gentleman - please Give a big welcome to the one and Only; 'Sam Allardyce! '
Glass is everywhere. The empty road; between shrubs And upturned wheelie bins. It's in your hair, like dust That sparkles slightly amidst the auburn highlights And the blood from a gash above your Left ear.
You can't hear so well, All is ringing, squealing, high And resonant above the sirens And screams, the shop-keepers Cursing the Gods, the Church bells from another world Calling out for dawn.
Oh! Take us away. From these rivers of black, These haggard drapes of Bright lights and broken Panes. This carpet Made from discarded electrical goods, Shoe boxes, wine bottles, and Ash.
Who are they to do this? To lay claim to all we have, To lay waste to that Which came before? No fury from foreign lands, nor Raging strife by nature's hands, Has ever done what has been done.
The rain doesn't come; Our summer is finally here, And the skies are clear. No clouds in sight, save for Rolling colossi of acrid smoke. Flames Pointing accusing fingers at an uncaring sky, As England burns.
Following the streets of night I stumble upon the lost generation Of beat poets and soulless wanderers Asking queries of the wonders of life. Inside the living edge Losing a subtle beauty She stands alone With an iron lung strapped around her chest With no sympathy for the dead With a lovers arm instead And a holy bible burning In the fire.
She takes me along the naked streets Of bony men and women, Starved of cash and hopeless eyes Follow me into the deeper black. She touches me with whorish delight And cracks my lips with her mouth And slips her tongue along mine As ashy tears roll down her cheek Into a stainless liquid air Lies are dead there.
She is gone My heroin of nightly gore She might have been nothing to you A shadow perhaps An unknown victim of the war of life But she smiles More than she cries. And in the end That's enough.
The late afternoon sun With its soft golden hues Cutting through the almost bare trees Bringing gusts of chilly wind with it Sending the last of The vibrantly painted leaves Tumbling to the cool ground
Leaving
A blanket of scarlet, rust and yellow A natural mosaic masterpiece
And
Tiny songbirds braving the cold With their melodic tunes As a gentle reminder That old man winter is on his way
A piping hot Corning Ware mug Filled to the brim with something Absolutely sinful and yummy To keep my hands and heart warm Against the prewinter chill
The last of the golden rays With its flickering lights Melting like molten lava Into the gentle arms Of the awaiting horizon
Pulling sweater to chin Against the oncoming wind Natures chilly kiss Upon warm cinnamon lips
I bask in the moment As it reaches Deep Down into my soul Where my inner child safely resides
Flashback memories Of crisp clean air And massive piles of raked leaves Begging for some playtime Jumping in and tossing them into the wind Then watching them float back down to earth
Oh how I long to hear the rustle of dead leaves Under my well worn boots one more time
When I close my eyes, I can still hear the sound And it comforts me to a degree
Pumpkin spice aroma Escaping through a cracked kitchen window Delightfully tickling my nose
Front porches adorned with cornstalks Multiple sized pumpkins, silly shaped gourds And huge welcoming door wreaths Decorated with the colors of autumn
The smell of fresh burning wood Wafting on the afternoon breeze And gray smoke performing an aerial ballet As it quietly escapes the brick chimneys
Afternoon shadows silently dancing Across the tall swaying trees A lone blue jay atop a gnarled branch Screeching his dismay At the changing of the seasons
Autumn in New England One of my most precious memories How I long to be there again Before my days are done
If I saw you today, Would you think the things I'm thinking? If I saw you today, Would you feel the way I'm feeling? The stars shined brighter through the lens of our love And even though we played the odds I guess it still was not enough For you.
Is there some other way For me to stand my own reflection? Is there some other way, Other than self destruction? Well these sleepless nights make me forget our reverie But the cigarette between my fingers Brings me closer to the memories Of you.
Do the New England stars Shine any brighter without me? Do the New England stars Dance for you profoundly? From Oklahoma they get darker every day And here I am Searching for temporal escaping from the pain I thought was caused by you, But really was caused by me.
