Cyril and Sid (remembered)

Cyril and Sid (remembered)

 

Today I remembered Cyril and Sid:

Veterans of the Second World War;

They knew what they had to do, and they did.

 

In ‘seventy seven, I was a kid,

And they were kids back in ‘forty four;

Today I remembered Cyril and Sid.

 

Kept in a box, with a tightly bound lid:

Old memories of whatever they saw;

They knew what they had to do, and they did.

 

Feelings connected with battle they hid,

Like guarded oaths, to which they both swore;

Today I remembered Cyril and Sid.

 

On Normandy’s beaches, their lives were bid;

Brothers in arms on a bloodied shore;

They knew what they had to do, and they did.

 

Long ago soldiers, standing amid

Old conscripts, living, or with us no more;

Today I remembered Cyril and Sid;

They knew what they had to do, and they did.  

Private Island

 

 

Private Island

 

Kim Kardashian had a health screen;

Asked everyone to quarantine,

And after two weeks, they took a trip

To an island of private ownership,

And there her inner circle and she,

Imagined a world of normality;

They swam near whales, danced by the shore,

Kayaked, rode bikes and so much more!

Yes, a great time they had on the beach,

One for most people, far out of reach,

Humbly reminded Kim tweeted this:

“How privileged”, she said, “My life is”.

 

Her tweet rankled with me, I admit;

Made me fair jealous, more than a bit,

And then I recalled a holiday

I had with my wife in Akumal Bay:

We lounged in paradise, she and I,

Where turtles swim, pelicans fly,

Humming birds hover, iguanas creep

And crickets chirp while the jet lagged sleep.

We ate in restaurants, drank in bars,

In our resort, awarded five stars,

And for two weeks we frolicked in style;

Lived like a king and queen for a while.

 

Not far away, there was poverty;

A lowly, shanty town by the sea;

The families living there were nice;

Gave us tequila, chili and rice,

And in comparison to their need,

I felt rich and “Privileged” indeed,

But did I feel humbled? Maybe I did;

Then again, who am I trying to kid?

If I were a Kardashian peer;

A part of her closest, inner sphere;

Given an invitation to go

To paradise, I wouldn’t say no.

Feed Now Ask Questions Later

 

Feed now ask questions later

 

Millions of poor children in the UK

(One of the world’s richest economies),

Will soon have a food source taken away;

The vote of more than three hundred MPs

(Who, incidentally seemed happy to raise

No objection to a rise of three grand),

Ended free meals during school holidays

For children below the poverty band.

Conservatives, seeking to justify,

Boast of a generous welfare state,

Others, questioning and reasoning why,

Endlessly procrastinate and debate.

Why can’t the causes be explored later?

Kids need to eat, whatever the data.

Oven Ready

 

Oven ready

 

As widely predicted, there isn’t a deal;

The one Boris bragged was oven ready,

Turned out to be a non-existent meal;

Now we’ll be like “Australia”, said he;

The Canadian style relationship,

(So-labelled) based on, “Friendship and free trade”,

Was rejected, and, shooting from the hip,

Ignoring the doubts of opponents dismayed,

Boris declared: “With high hearts and complete

Confidence, we will prepare to embrace

The alternative”, and all the conceit,

And deception showed plainly on his face;

Does he really believe no one can see

He’s full of bullshit? Or is it just me?

Corporate Girl

 

Corporate girl

 

Fatima the ballerina

Hardly anybody’s seen her

Pointe shoes traded for stilettoes

All the theatres being ghettos 

There’s a mural on the wall

The Barbican Royal Albert Hall

Holding bays for Amazon now

Since they gave a final bow

 

Fatima fell through the ice

Took some government advice

To rethink and then reboot

Spent a few months picking fruit

Wound up in security

Cos as anyone can see

Pirouetting doesn’t pay

Now the theatre’s gone away

Past Acquaintance

 

Past acquaintance

 

Past acquaintance, wherever you may be,

If you’re reading this, allow me to say,

Profusely and with all sincerity:

Sorry for causing you, back in the day,

Physical and psychological pain;

I was an ignorant boy, immature,

And if I could have my youth back again,

In light of the grief I made you endure,

I’d treat you now with compassion in mind,

Not be a bully who preys on the weak,

And now the bulk of my years are behind,

I’m far more inclined to offer my cheek,

Aspiring to be the kindest of men;

I’m not the same person I was back then.

 

I read of a German boy; seventeen,

When Nazi lies were regarded as truth;

If all teenagers are equally green,

Can we forgive him the crimes of his youth?

There’s no comparison, many protest,

But when you look at it, can you be sure?

Certainly, defiance would have been best,

When persecution was passed into law,

But who’d be a martyr, when a mere child?

Let alone a brainwashed brutalised one;

Now ninety four, arrested and reviled,

The past atrocities can’t be undone;

Should then recipients of his abuse

Consider his youth a valid excuse?

Vague News

 

 

Vague news

 

The egoist without a peer

Blindingly with violent light

Infects the boys with boundless fear

Beguiles the angels of delight 

Falls lustfully on partial sight

Keeps demons hidden in the rear

 

And in the corner of my eye

As windows crack and shatter near

In tandem with the Russian spy

‘Midst plastic spoons and bottled beer

(There’s nothing to recycle here)

I watch the politicians lie

 

The host of demons overdue

With magic dust materialise

As saints are beaten black and blue

And maggots match your eyes to flies

Like fading martyrs in disguise

News presenters hide from view

 

And meanwhile on the seven seas

Aboard the hood ship lolly strop

The pirates hand to refugees

Pangolins from the butcher’s shop

Fill heads with Chinese fantasies

And wait for viruses to drop

 

And here he is our fateful doom

(We wondered where you were my friend)

The elephant is in the room

The angels gradually ascend

The demons easily offend

And doctor’s living stones presume

 

Behold the fateful doom declares

A gift from God I have no less

As spectres walk away in pairs

Two hundred thousand (more or less)

And news presenters second guess

The motives of the billionaires

 

Now you and I await our fate

Like autumn leaves in wind and rain

Susceptible to love and hate

And algorithms of the brain

As imps decidedly insane

Construct a wall around our state

Black Shirts

 

Black Shirts

 

Donald Trump, demonstrating on a stage,

How wisdom really doesn’t come with age,

Shouted insults, debated not at all,

Made America look daft and uncool,

Refused to condemn white supremacists,

All but condoned the actions of racists,

Blamed the Democrats for the country’s hurts,

And halted the sale of the Proud Boy’s shirts.

 

Stand back and standby, but I tell you what;

If Biden’s all the opposition’s got,

Then the only hope, come Election Day,

Is the income tax, that Trump didn’t pay;

Impoverished fence-sitters taking note,

Biden consequently winning the vote,

Taking office, deciding to retire,

Then giving the reins to someone less dire.