Picnic by Jimmy Boom Semtex poems

Picnic by Jimmy Boom Semtex

This is Picnic, Jimmy Boom Semtex's new poetry book. It features recent work on many topics like world events, war, love, satirical views on world leaders, humour and much more. Fans of Jimmy's work won't be disappointed in this volume which compliments his other releases. There is also a photo section of Jimmy's hometown and other random snaps. Check out this unique ebook now.

An example is:

Written Or Spoken

We write for the reason of writing. Name it more or less than that. The simple reason of writing. To write. Whether it's a shopping list or an epic novel. Words down on paper. Simple and important.

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War Blame

I was told not to blame certain people or religions for starting wars. I think this is bullshit. Nothing is more untrue. Take Ukraine. Putin The Dog started that war, so he's to blame. I'd be told, No, it's mitigating circumstances all coming together. Putin is only one aspect.

I'm like, are you on fucking drugs?

Putin The Dog and his Neo Soviet cunts started it. Simple as that. So for that, I won't be in your group, sharing my work. But you inspired me to write this. My poem on war blame. I blame Putin The Dog for his little Ukrainian adventure, how can I not?

Maybe you'd like my mate's view, he lives over there. Maybe it wasn't Putin who 'persuaded' him to move house. On blame, I think you take this to a hippy metaphysical level. All are innocent, even the top generals. The same generals who order thousand to their deaths.

I think you wriggled out of this, trying to be so nice. You fake man.

Does the slain F-16 pilot's wife agree with you, we mustn't use blame? Of course someone started it, committed the evil act. So there is blame. Be it religion like ISIS use or a military leader like Putin The Dog.

To not place blame is to not know why. And is a cowardly act; it takes the reasons away. Why? Why is the world fucked and those people dying? What do you think of Syria? Do you blame Assad, the FSA, ISIS etc? I blame them all and I blame you for being spineless, to not allow blame be placed.

Who's the coward? Not me; I speak out.

Life's full of wannabes. No matter what you try. Be it Muay Thai or eating spaghetti.

Are We At War?

We live at a nice sea side village. The day the Russians came, everything changed. I was walking down the small main street with my mate. We were looking forward to our next beer session and chilling to some tunes.

Then it happened. A noise filled the air around us. People pointed and shouted and then we saw it. The huge silver object barely above the sea. It moved towards us at great speed. Dozens of small white splashes appeared in front of it and then small yellow things danced briefly over it.

There was another noise, much louder, followed by a black dart whooshing through the air. It appeared lower than the silver thing, now identified as a plane. And it was heading straight towards us!

The main street led to the beach, where the sea was. Now we were in the firing line. We heard a jack hammer over the loud rumble of engines. Bits of pavement and broken bricks from shops filled the air. Two people next to us, frozen to the spot, just disintegrated in a red mist.

I pushed my mate out of the way, into a small shop doorway. More gunfire hit the road where we had just been. The silver plane's roar got louder. It was obvious what he was going to do. It was like 911! I dragged my mate into danger and we ran for our lives, hugging the wall to the beach.

Since we first saw the huge monster plane, it had grown in size and was on top of us. We made it to the end of the road and dived onto the sand. The plane flew over us, a dozen feet over our heads! Smoke and flames singed our necks and dirtied our hair.

Then the plane hit the village at the same time as the jet fighter came back. He was too late! We looked over our shoulders at the scene just as the blast wave from the crash slapped us fiercely to the sand. Broken wings with red stars and wheels and metal and engines cart wheeled everywhere. Buildings collapsed and fire took hold.

There were people under all that! Were their bombs aboard that damn thing? If so we'd better run. Right now survival mattered. Our town with our friends and family could wait. Someone had to escape this, whatever it was...

Pop On Over

You really should pop over here. It's a lovely place. The people are friendly, women drop dead sexy, towns historical and old, sea unbelievably swimmable, mountains steep and green, sky is blue blue blue. Don't take my word for it. See for yourself. All are welcome here. There's only one problem. The location is secret.

Ex Of An Excuse

I don't need your stupid reasons for not being there. I don't need your pathetic excuses for leaving me. Especially when you told your dear male friend by letter. Before you told me. When I found out, you left me anyhow.

I make excuses to myself, why I wasted 3 years and 4 months of my life with you. You, the messed up girl with more issues that Hannah Montana. Do you regret your actions? You didn't at first, you were adamant you were right. Now 17 years later, regrets?

One thing is for sure. My door is always closed to you and your twisted kind. My excuse is I'm too good for all of you. And my time is spent with my darling wife. How's that for my excuse? Blowing your petty reasons to Saturn and back. I've moved on, have you?

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