Five o'clock, awake in a tent,
I wonder what my parents meant
When they said "Camping is good",
As I drown slowly in the mud.

They also said, "Camping is cheap,
A reasonable way to sleep."
Well cheap is something it might be,
But it may cause the death of me.

I hate the boggy, dewy grass,
I hate the smell of camping gas,
And something else I really hate:
The lilo which will not inflate.

I hate the threat of grizzly bears,
And plastic cups and FOLD-UP CHAIRS.
I hate the puddle-filled ground sheet,
The professional campers' tent so neat.

I hate the great darkness at night,
Except the beam of the snake-light.
Twisted cord round wonky poles,
Housing us poor tortured souls.

Except my parents think it's great
To have to go to bed at eight,
To get out of your "room" to find
What the cows have left behind.

An airplane passes overhead,
Stirring wet campers from their "bed",
I count the seconds till it's light,
But then we'll just go . . . to another camp site.


Little Miss Muffet
by Zed, age 16

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
There came a big spider
Who sat down beside her
She screamed, dropped her bowl, ran away.

Hit by a curd
The spider went absurd
But he finally managed to say,
"Mr Muffet's daughter
I'll have to report her
Unto the RSPCA."

But they didn't care
For the spider's welfare
And that caused the spider great sorrow
They just said to the spider,
"Be ye merry, drink cider,
You'll forget your problems by tomorrow."

So the spider got merry
On cider and sherry
And the future began to look bright
But when he tried to drive -
Lucky to be alive -
He got put into jail for the night

During his time in jail,
The future looked pale,
But eventually he was let out.
He forgot all his strife
And began a new life
As the spider that climbed up the spout.


True Love
by Zed, age 16

There she is
Waiting for him outside
There's a smile on his face
And a spring in his stride
His eyes absorb
Eeach feminine curve
This is like, this is lust
This is love, this is LURVE!

Perfectly poised
Spotless and clean
Making him feel
Like a lovin' machine
Dressed in red
It's her colour no doubt
He cannot believe
They're about to go out

I, the ex-girlfriend,
Watch him and glare
It's not like I'm jealous
It's not like I care
He believes, quite rightly,
That they will go far,
But she can't love him back
'Cause she's only a car!


Mixing Physics With Romance
by Zed, age 16

In simple harmonic motion two bodies sway.
At ten decibels soft words he will say.
At twelve degrees C, his swift hands feel cold.
Her hair absorbs all other colours but gold.

Shining like diamonds, her bright eyes refract.
A cute angle - oops, angel; inhibitions contract.
A magnetic attraction between them is felt.
Negligible resistance; the current makes her melt.

Gravity deserts them and their spirits lift.
The stars move away with Doppler Red Shift.
Couples in fields have moments; the physicist sniggers,
But he leaves them alone - two significant figures.


Telephone
by Zed, age 16

In the steamy haze of shower
Booming opera voice is singing
It sinks sharply down the plug hole
When a far-off phone starts ringing

Clad in towel I water carpet
Snatch receiver; caller gone
Curse the phone and leap upon it
Dial digits one-four-seven-one

Woman lists a local number
Shedding unfamiliar light
Mix through memories in my mind then -
It's the man I met last night!

No I'm not prepared to call back
Till I am completely dried
Till I'm dressed, straightened and perfumed
Till cool make-up is applied

Nervous hands tremble the number
Fresh sweat pours, my body's blazing
"Hi, you called," I croak in anguish
"Yes, you want some double glazing?"


Self-Confidence
by Zed, age 16

"Love yourself!" the people cried,
"Have confidence," they said.
"Don't criticise yourself, you fool,
Insult others instead!"

So I resolved to change myself
And like the way I be,
But obviously it didn't work -
Keep resolutions? Me??


Nice
by Zed, age 16

oh, you're as loving
and gentle and tender,
as a guy with his hand
stuck in a blender.


The Owl And The Pussycat Retold
by Zed, age 16

'The owl and the pussycat' was a poem
By a writer named Edward Lear
They had a great time
In this memorable rhyme
But their reason for this wasn't clear

A writer named CZ
Thought it would be easy
To make it a little more real.
So in this piece of writing
Reality's biting
To show how the characters feel...

Owl and pussy were dating
And soon to be mating
But others found this out of hand
So a goat named Fred
Approached them and said
"I think your courtship should be banned,

I hate to be fussy
But an owl and a pussy
Should not really be dating and that.
And for your information
There's a bad connotation -
So from now on it's 'owl and the cat'."

So the very next day
They ran far away
From this snobbery shown by a goat
They did not find it funny
So they gathered some money
And nicked off with a pea green boat

When seen by the sailor
His face turned much paler
"That's MY boat - I'm getting my gun!"
But before he could shoot
They'd zoomed off with their loot
And they sailed away into the sun
(and got burnt), yes, they sailed away into the sun

The owl stared above
And sang to his love
"What a beautiful cat you are."
"You're a terrible singer
So shut up, you minger
Or you're overboard, with your guitar
(yes you are), even if it did come from Omega Music."

Several days later
He'd started to hate her
But land was in sight which was good.
The land wasn't big
It belonged to a pig
And he stood in the middle of a wood
(yes he did), and in his nose was a gold stud

"Rings are quite out of fashion
And you've lost all your passion
And no, it's not yours for a pfennig."
But owl said, "Oh **** it!"
And with that he took it
Leaving the cat with the pig

The future looked murky
So they went to the turkey
Who said, "Why not become man and wife?"
"Don't you mean 'pig and cat'?
But I'll agree to that."
"Good, so get married and get a life
(and a dishwasher), get married and get a life."

So after this speech
They wed on the beach
And after a very long talk
They dined on mince
And slices of quince
Which they ate with a rather large spork.


Physical Repulsion
by Zed, age 16

I

I hate Physics.
Physics hates me.
The magnetic strength of Physics
Must be minus twenty three.

I hate Physics
Much more than I hate my brother.
I had a fight with Physics last night,
We threw things at each other.

Physics won unfortunately,
It cannot be destroyed.
A little bit like energy,
Oh, it makes me so annoyed!

I hate Physics.
It makes me so depressed.
It's expanding with the universe
And cannot be compressed.

Physics causes lots of stress
It also causes strain
I wouldn't give a monkey's
If I never saw it again.

Oh, why am I bothering
To write this silly rhyme?
On this ax-worthy Physics bumph,
I waste my precious time.

II

Physics makes me feel so sick,
The mind is meant to go click click.
But mine only goes clunk clunk clunk,
It's filled with all this Physics junk.
And sometimes it goes creek creek creek,
When it thinks, "Oh no, Physics! EEK!"

III

Physics requires a v. clear head,
But it makes my brain goes fuzzy and red.
My thoughts dissolve, my knowledge blears,
But in one way, yes, my mind clears:
The Physics I know sinks down the drain,
To clear a space within my brain.


File Paper
by Zed, age 17

I hate this flippin' file paper
It's driving me insane
It falls apart
It breaks my heart
And tears apart my brain

Who the heck designed it?
They must have been quite mad!
I write on it
The pages split
It makes me very sad

It all starts getting crumpled
When I carry it around
The pages shout
"Please let me out!"
And scatter on the ground

I've treated it with great respect
It's been walked and hugged and fed
But still the pages
Get in rages
Saying, "We don't like you, Zed!"

Perhaps if I don't write on it
It might be somehwat better
But how the ferk
Can I do my work
If I can't write a single letter?

Maybe this is my punishment
For cruelty to trees
But if I don't buy
Trees would still die
Be rational, paper, please!

Yes, I hate this beepin' file paper
I can't think of a strong enough insult
But I've had enough
Of the stupid stuff
Oh, why is life so difficult?


My Boyfriend's A Re-Enactor
by Zed, age 20

He is a squire
Who serves his Lord.
He owns an axe
As well as a sword.
He polishes his helmet
When he's bored.
To the point where
I feel ignored.

He goes away
On three-day benders
To wear a dress
As well as suspenders!
He feels quite strange
With "normal" clothes on.
He'll get his kit off
For anyone!

In the hope
Of earning beads
He heads for Largs
And York and Leeds.
He'll go hundreds of miles
To get to a fight.
He helps burn ships
During the night.

He owns four pairs of pliers
So I can help him make chain mail.
He points out the inaccuracies
In Monty Python's "Holy Grail".
Boot space is his only concern
When he looks at cars.
He spends more time in camping shops
Than he does in bars.

His name is
Jean Pierre D'Arbecey.
He rides a horse
(As well as me).
He spends his Sundays
Charging through fields.
My house is filled
With scrams and shields
And when he goes away
At weekends,
He does his best
To kill his friends.


Get Lost
by Zed, age 20

I never wanted you,
I made that quite clear,
Yet countless years later,
You still must appear.

After a while,
You get bored and go,
But you will return,
Within a month, I know.

And you always turn up,
When you'll cause most distress.
When I need confidence,
I will feel like a mess.

You sap out all my happiness,
You spoil my concentration.
Make up cannot hide my fear,
I'm taking medication.

Even if I go away,
You will always find me.
No matter how I grey,
You will always find me.
You will always find me.

And not only that,
You bug my friends too.
Haven't you heard us,
Whining about you?

So get out of my face,
Life with you is the pits.
And get off my back
You fiendish cruel zits.


Reflection
by Zed, age 20

What is stranger than trying to examine
the surface of a mirror for marks,
ignoring your own image?

Seeing someone who looks just like you
and squirting them in the eyes
with Windolene.