(Can You See) The Real Me

(Can You See)The Real Me

Though lately less liable to lose control,

I struggle still with toxicity;

sometimes I can’t help but be an arsehole.

My default position is, on the whole,

that of a chauvinist monstrosity;

though lately less liable to lose control,

if I inadvertently play that role,

indulge me a humble apology;

sometimes I can’t help but be an arsehole;

it’s like I’m ascending a slippery pole;

a climber with a split personality,

though lately less liable to lose control;

self-awareness is a faraway goal,

I’m often my own worst enemy,

sometimes I can’t help but be an arsehole.

If eyes are the window to the soul,

when you look through mine, can you see the real me?

Though lately less liable to lose control,

sometimes I can’t help but be an arsehole.

A Way Out

A Way Out

A fascist teed off at the eighteenth hole;

And as the ball toward the fairway fell,

An aneurysm burst inside his skull,

The fascist died, and his soul went to hell,

Where it resided in a lake of fire,

Dragged down by unendurable torment,

Through depths of despair, progressively dire,

With each passing, agonising, moment,

For infinity; inexhaustibly

Increasing, in mockery of the screams

From the furnace, burning remorselessly;

Fuelled by the seemingly endless streams

Of immortals, damned in isolation;

Each tightly crammed beyond suffocation.

In Hell there’s no time; no morning, noon, night;

Infinity is the sum of all fears,

But if one could measure the time in spite:

A span of fifty millennium years

Passed, during which his immortality

Progressed, augmenting pain never ending;

Blinding in its white-hot intensity;

When there came a narrow thread, descending

From above; and he heard the voice of grace

Say: “If you sincerely repent, take hold,

And we will lift you from this cursed place

And gladly welcome you into our fold;

Lovingly rejoice upon your release,

And lead you to joyful, eternal peace”.

“Oh I repent”, he desperately cried,

Grabbing as a drowning man would a straw,

The thread, barely more than a shoelace wide,

That nonetheless raised him up off the floor

Of white heat, toward the heavenly light;

Glowing brighter and brighter the higher

He went, all the while renouncing, greed, spite,

Selfishness, callousness, envy, desire,

And every temptation known to mankind,

Of which he was guilty, in abundance,

And which he presently had left behind;

Traded in exchange for his repentance:

Clinging to the thread of his salvation;

Free of pain, and in anticipation

Of heaven, presently within his grasp.

But something was tugging him from below:

A soul, whose equally desperate clasp

Might break the thread, if he didn’t let go;

And worse: there were many more; a whole chain

Of souls, stretching all the way down toward

The flames. Was his ascension all in vain?

“Get off me” he cried, “Lest you’ll break the cord”;

So saying, he kicked out, with all his might

Till that soul, along with the others fell;

And with but an inch away from the light,

The thread snapped, and he followed them to hell,

As a golf ball long ago descending,

Encroached on his thoughts of doom impending.

Sestinia (a sestina)

Sestinia (a sestina)

Every time I see memes pertaining to 1984

on SM, lamenting the loss of free speech,

I’m reminded of the little-handed dictator

in Oceania, dismantling freedom, little by little;

all the while doubling down on doublespeak;

prompting the proles into believing the opposite;

demonising people in the party opposite;

rousing rage, reminiscent of hate week in 1984;

firing up the flock with blatant doublespeak;

condemning free speech, in the name of free speech;

preaching Christian values, whilst pointing his little

digit at a Democrat, denounced as a dictator,

by the absolute epitome of a dictator;

threatening to sue media outlets of opposite

opinion, who dare to highlight the suffering of little

kids, killed daily since the completion of 1984;

three years after a denier of free speech,

via the expertise of a manipulator of doublespeak,

died in a bunker, along with the doublespeak

manipulator, before the army of another dictator;

with his own twisted view of free speech,

leading a party as extreme, yet opposite;

and very much an inspiration for 1984;

fought their way in, and found little

more than ashes and teeth, from what little

is known; upon deciphering the doublespeak,

alluded to in the, not then completed, 1984,

that could’ve been written with either dictator,

in mind, each being identically opposite

in their approach to curbs on free speech;

but in any case, both dystopian, free speech

denying, totalitarians, along with their little

minded followers are long deceased; the opposite

number expiring shortly after doublespeak;

predominantly that of the longer lived dictator,

was coined in a fictional account of the 1984,

on the telescreen opposite; as doublespeak

destroys free speech, and the little

handed dictator, makes 2025 equal 1984.

A Shot of Irony

A Shot of Irony

A speech or text taken out of context

Re tweeted as such perplexes deceives

I wonder what on Earth will happen next

As the mad MAGA cult righteously grieves

The Donald points the short finger of blame

The right wing media hacks follow suit

A civil war’s mentioned in all but name

The victim is held in the highest repute

I ponder the meaning of empathy

A feeling the victim roundly disclaimed

Preferring its’ synonym sympathy

His statement has since been cynically framed

But the left is mainly cautious in case

And the second amendment’s still in place

Own Worst Enemy

Own Worst Enemy

Wilful ignorance and stupidity,

perpetuates, powerlessness, poverty, war:

the working class right: its own worst enemy;

a bleating flock of failed humanity,

parroting populist pish, with yet more

wilful ignorance and stupidity;

swallowing slogans, two-a-penny;

playground politics, jungle law;

the working class right: its own worst enemy;

a riotous mass of raving lunacy,

nationalism, hatred and hard-core,

wilful ignorance and stupidity,

led by fraudsters lying with impunity;

science, academia, ridiculed, ignored;

the working class right: its own worst enemy,

vents on a scapegoated community;

pays homage to wealth-hoarders sailing offshore.

Wilful ignorance and stupidity;

the working class right: its own worst enemy.

Villain in The White House

Villain in The White House

Villain in The White House please impeach

An orange grabbed a teenage peach

A paedophile hanged himself with his bed-sheeting

While the cameras failed and the guards were sleeping

Villain in The White House a Putin asset

Bankrupt casinos Qatari jet

Prices rising on the racks and shelves

Medicaid’s gone you gotta pay for yourselves

Villain in The White House he’s the king

Of hubris double-speak and posturing

Trade-wars tariffs God and MAGA’s brand

Watch out Panama Canada Greenland

Villain in The White House please don’t speak

Every queer and transsexual’s a scapegoat freak

ICE deport incarcerate en-masse

El Salvador Alligator Alcatraz

Villain in The White House preachers preach

Limitations on your free speech

No woke persuasion nor toleration

Of CRT in education

Villain in The White House sales increase

Weapons raining down on kids won’t cease

Occupation starvation genocide

A new Las Vegas a Nobel Peace Prize

In YouWendy Oh

In You Wendy Oh!

I was playing with myself, one fine day,

Indulging in a game of Solitaire,

With my tired old deck ; and about to lay

A well fingered queen of diamonds, when there

Came a knock, causing me to stand erect,

Walk to the front door, and turn the knob,

Knowing neither who nor what to expect;

And there was Wendy, who’d been on the job,

With a pair of shears at her evergreen,

The which she was struggling with the tall bits,

Left wild, on account of their having been

The nesting abode, of a pair of tits,

And which were presently well overgrown;

Eggs hatched, nest empty, tits, fledglings, long flown.

“I’ve a long Black and Decker”, said I,

“It should be able to reach, at a push,

You’re welcome to borrow, and give it a try,

Or else I’ll come over, and trim your bush”.

Offer accepted; I cut, and she held

My step ladder steady, lest I should fall;

And all the bush cuttings, leaves, branches, felled,

Filled up her two sacks in no time at all.

“Thank you” said Wendy “Now I can get on

With finding my nape vibrator that’s lost;

I’ve put it somewhere: God knows where it’s gone;

I hope I’ve not inadvertently tossed

It”; “Oh” I replied, “Wendy, don’t worry,

I’ll help you find it; I’m in no hurry”.

Standing, and crouching, and down on all fours,

In the main bedroom of Wendy’s semi,

I meticulously went through her draws,

Whilst she, below, made juices aplenty,

In the kitchen; keeping me hydrated,

Till, low and behold, I found her device!

Suffice to say she, highly elated,

Applied it around her neck in a trice:

“Oh what a relief” said she, with a sigh;

“Where did you find it? I’ve looked everywhere”,

“Here”, I responded, by way of reply:

“In amongst your bottom-drawer underwear”;

And all being said and decidedly done,

I returned home to solitary fun.