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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  12/21/2014 7:16:50 PM
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'Endangered Species (Part One & Two) '

I walk along the broken streets
Leaping o’er the cracks beneath my feet
Trying to stay on solid ground
But! the money people want to keep me down

By creating their financial earthquakes
Then producing their usual earaches
These are hard times, tighten your belts
Easy; my hungry body is now a starving svelte

One day the rich will come to see
Their wealth will no longer come free
They may have get their hands full of faeces
Cos; the working class is an endangered species

‘Endangered species (Part two) ’
‘The Appeal’

Let’s be truthful
Let’s have some clarity
You’ll have to work hard
Or donate to this charity

It’s not the fault of the working man
That profits are your only drive
Improve the lot of the working person
Or they won’t be the only ones to strive

Improve the economy, create more jobs
Improve the lot of the working class
Redistribute the wealth, give a little to everyone
Or the world as you know it, will come to pass
Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Father Nicholas'

‘Father Nicholas’

He was born to go to hell
That is where he is bound
Right now he’s in a cell
For messing with children of this town

He wore a priest’s cassock
He was there to nurture young minds
But he got them to kneel on the hassock
Then he took them from behind

Now as he sits in his prison cell
Things on his mind to dwell
Is it the truth he’ll tell
Not a chance in hell

The children have to get it level
They have to see it in their eyes
They have to know that old nick, was Satan
He was the devil in disguise

Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Just like Daddy'

‘Just like Daddy’

Daddy I want to be like you
Just like you; if I can
Live my life as you do
Happy as a single man

Michael Micmac Mccrory
Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Researcher of poetry'

‘Researcher of poetry’

To be or not to be that is the question
Am I a word junkie or a poetry equestrian?
Riding a rhyme changing the line
To make it look like it was mine

The good Lawrence Durrell was a wordy man
Little about poetry he did understand
Till a woman led him to the Promised Land
Now he’s one of the best in the land

Barrington had a duck-billed Platypus at trinity
With whom he shared a remarkable affinity
The Platypus made Barrington nervous
When he suggested they join the Diplomatic Service

John’s padre was an old sky pilot
Until they clipped his wings
He sits in his garden: writing poetry
Playing guitar, composing songs which he sings

Noel proved he was no coward
He proved he was the brave one
With mad dogs and Englishmen
He went out in the midday sun

Cole Porter said let’s do it let’s fall in love
I said Cole you have had to much porter
I really don’t fancy you, but, if you can wait
To get drunk: I might like a little porter

I did do some research to come up with this prose
I know you’re not happy, and what’s getting up your nose
I am not a researcher I will tell you for free
I may just be a thief of other people’s poetry

Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory