Sunday, 21 July 2019

20/7/69


20/7/69

July twentieth, nineteen sixty nine;
In Essex, a boy, nearly eight years old,
Wearing a pair of shoes of Clarks design,
Sat watching the first moon-landing unfold.
As he gazed at the moon’s surface he saw,
It actually matched the soles of his shoes,
And as Armstrong’s foot came down on that floor,
He pictured himself making headline news;
A man in a spacesuit jumping around
Sending greetings to Earth from outer space;
A hero, (shortly to be homeward bound),
With a glass bowl around his cheerful face;
He was an astronaut, and in his mind,
He made his own giant leap for mankind.






Tuesday, 16 July 2019

Read the small print





Read the small print

Signing now would be a mistake;
Many a mug’s been done before;
Read the small print, for fucks sake.

This trepidation isn’t fake;
It’s a premonition of what’s in store;
Signing now would be a mistake.

Don’t be taken for a piece of cake,
By a glutton with his foot in the door;
Read the small print, for fucks sake.

Deals are not good things to make,
If being hasty makes you poor;
Signing now would be a mistake.

He’ll offer you his hand to shake,
But it’s a bad deal, that’s for sure;
Read the small print, for fucks sake.

Don’t put your name down; it’s opaque,
Take some time out, and then withdraw;
Signing now would be a mistake;
Read the small print, for fucks sake.

Thursday, 11 July 2019

Ignore them all my darling

Ignore them all my darling

If you think that business moving overseas,
Is an indication of a country on its knees;
And those you voice concern to, answer with a sneer,
Ignore them all my darling, as reality draws near.

Sixty thousand EU workers
In our hospitals,
And vacancies aren’t filled, as that number vastly falls;
When Brexit-backers tell you, it’s only project fear,
Ignore them all my darling, as reality draws near.

The USA has promised, a so called great escape;
New deals on the table, with no EU red-tape,
Are you reassured, after Donald Trump’s address?
Will there never be an option, to sell the NHS?

Before we’re through with Europe, there’ll be a deal they say,
But if it stays unsettled, we’re leaving come what may;
And if there's recession, and grave financial pain;
Apparently, it’s worth it if it makes us great again.

And if there are shortages, like many years before,
When rationing on food was imposed in times of war,
If more expensive tariffs cripple industry,
Is that a price worth paying, for being EU-free?

When, as we keep being told, sovereignty’s returned,
And EU legislation has effectively been burned,
Will there be a boon for every public service here?
Will being out of Europe put an end to project fear?

Did you hear Ann Widdecombe; that mad speech she gave,
When she likened Brexit to the freeing of a slave?
Did she speak for all of those, who don’t wish to remain?
If she did, we’re fucked, and the country’s gone insane.

Sixty thousand EU workers
In our hospitals,
And vacancies aren’t filled, as that number vastly falls;
When Brexit-backers tell you, it’s only project fear,
Ignore them all my darling, as reality draws near.

Scarred world





A scarred World

Animals and insects are in decline;
It’s not a good time to be a porcupine,
A lion, an orangutan, a colobus monkey,
An eagle or bumble bee.
Habitation disappearing everywhere;
If animals were people there would be despair;
Will there be a tiger, a gorilla,
Or a polar bear
When there’s nothing there?

Oh baby baby it’s a scarred world
(Fossil fuels and palm oil)
We’re not here for a very long time
(Pesticides in the soil)
Oh baby baby it’s a scarred world
(Plastic floating in the sea)
And the state that we leave it in, is like a crime
(Polyester industry)

Schoolchildren protesting in the street,
Conservationists with politicians meet,
Climate change is devastating; it’s clearly
A global emergency
And then an orange man in the USA
Say’s that it was bound to happen anyway;
Business is guiltless, in spite of what
The bleeding hearts say;
It’s here to stay

Oh baby baby it’s a scarred world
(Children breathing poisoned air)
We’re all only here for a little while
(Powerful people made aware)
Oh baby baby it’s a scarred world
(But even if they really care)
Our toxic waste is an ever growing pile
(It’s getting now beyond repair)

Oh baby baby it’s a scarred world
(Climate change deniers now)
Trails of carbon are all we leave behind
(Walk the corridors of power)
Oh baby baby it’s a scarred world
(To big business they bow)
There’s always an option of choosing to be blind
(And make the world a cash-cow)

Wednesday, 10 July 2019

The Trump's prayer


                                                               The Trump’s prayer 
  
Our master which art in the White House
Donald be thy name
Our Kingdom come
Thy deals be done in Chequers
As they art in the White house
Purchase this day our NHS
And sell us insurances
Against any illnesses that come against us
And we will gladly grovel to your nation
Upon deliverance from Europe
For ours is thy Kingdom
Republican Tory
Forever and ever
American


Tuesday, 9 July 2019

Quill and ink



Quill and ink (Writer’s block)

If your drive to be creative
Won’t get past second gear
And your need to be inventive
Lacks a new idea
Turn off your word processer
And think about Shakespeare
All he had was his quill and ink
For his entire career

People say well never see
Another Stratford Bard
And To be or not to be
Many still regard
As Shakespeare’s magnum opus
His genius trump card
And all he had was his quill and ink
To go that extra yard

He wrote a piece on suicide
Along with the suggestion
That life’s not an easy ride
And death requires reflection
How many drafts rewritten 
Before he reached perfection
Did he get tired of his quill and ink?
That is indeed the question

You might spend a fruitless hour
Staring at a screen
Feeling it’s beyond your power
To write down what you mean
But if you feel despondent
Think how it must have been
For Shakespeare with his quill and ink
Struggling with a scene 

If your imagination
Feels like a dead end street
And writing bears relation
To a dead horse being beat
Think of Shakespeare striving
As you press delete
Putting down his quill and ink
And tearing up a sheet

If a phase of writer’s block
Is making you depressed
And you’re churning out a crock
And getting more obsessed
Not knowing when to quit things
You’ll never be your best
Even he with his quill and ink
Sometimes had to rest

If your drive to be creative
Won’t get past second gear
And your need to be inventive
Lacks a new idea
Turn off your word processer
And think about Shakespeare
All he had was his quill and ink
For his entire career

If you want to be successful
And shine amongst your peers
But what you write looks dreadful
Compared against Shakespeare’s
Turn off your word processer
It can only end in tears
They’ve marvelled at his quill and ink
For the last four hundred years

But we all get frustrated
No doubt he struggled too
And he must have felt elated
The way most people do
When they finally achieve
Whatever goal’s in view
Even he with his quill and ink
Was human just like you







Saturday, 6 July 2019

Cuckoo



Cuckoo

Coming to a town near you
Heading out to pastures new
City dwellers looking to
Find a place to cuckoo cuckoo
They found one quite recently
Just across the road to me
A den of vulnerability
Housing temporarily
Someone with a vein to feed
A twenty year old gone to seed
A sad looking boy indeed
Previously a child in need
They recruited him to be
A runner for their company
Operating endlessly
Where there’s no CCTV
In the street outside my door
Seems an easy place to score
Their antics the police ignore
Due to cuts response is poor
So they get away with it
We put up with all the shit
That goes with living opposite
A house of people desperate
Burglaries in broad day light
Not a police patrol in spite
Of dealers dealing in plain sight
Operating day and night
I try to keep an open view
I’ve made small talk with a few
Once I shared a word or two
With a young offender who
Sounded like a needy bloke
Hanging out for smack or coke
He wanted money for a smoke
I told him that I was broke
He told me he’d been inside
I felt paranoid he’d spied
Window s I’d left open wide
Locks to break an easy ride
Two days later he was dead
An overdose a neighbour said
Now a new ones’ in his stead
Another by addiction led
Coming to a town near you
Heading out to pastures new
City dwellers looking to
Find a place to cuckoo cuckoo





Wednesday, 3 July 2019

Don't make it true



Don’t make it true

Walking in the woods
I look at a tree
And In my mind
Myself I see
Hanging from a branch
In front of me

Strolling past a river
Or a stream
I as if I’m in a dream
See my body
Float face down
Having caused
Myself to drown

Inside a garage
I see a van
Inside the van
A sleeping man
The engine running
Constantly
The fumes
Slowly killing
Me

A hundred
Paracetamol
And
In my mind
I take them all

I see a pump
At a petrol station
And
In my imagination
I can feel
The hot sensation
Of dying
By self-immolation

I think of a tower
And a rushing sound
I hear as I head
Toward the ground
Freefalling
Deathward bound

More thoughts
Following behind
Manifesting
In my mind
And
In my mind
Each one I try
And
In my mind
Each time I die
And
In my mind
I have a view
Of your wish
To follow through
And
In my mind
I beg of you
Dear friend
Don’t make it true
























Tuesday, 2 July 2019

Snakes


Open letter (Snakes)

On behalf of my country, I would like to apologise;
The people who you see before you now
Are really vipers in human disguise,
Each voted into positions of power
By those they fool and to whom they lie to.
But unfortunately, they are many
And their opponents are now but a few;
Brexit MPs being two a penny.
And as for the people who put them here,
Some of them are my friends and family;
I hope that one day, when things become clear,
They’ll see their mistake and vote differently.
Until then, these snakes with their backs to you,
Sadly represent their misguided view.

Killing Hitler





Killing Hitler

Seeing Hitler as a child newly born;
Knowing what he, as an adult would do;
Imagine that you were like Robert Thorn,
Who wanted to stop The Omen Part Two.
If you were willing to commit the act,
And, before he grew up, Adolf you killed,
Would war be prevented before the fact?
Would world peace reign and aggression be stilled?
Ultimately, would goodness fare greater
If his death created a vacancy?
The chances are, another dictator
Would lead to the same horrid history
And future generations still would say,
“Never again”, then repeat anyway.