Forgive Them Not

Forgive Them Not

Republican former vice-president, Pence,

Signs missiles fired at war-refugee tents;

Biden endorses it, Harris does too;

Forgive them not Lord, they know what they do.

Musk does a blatantly Nazi salute,

Bannon, concluding a rant, follows suit,

Milei, at CPAC, hands Musk a chainsaw;

He raises it, roaring a metaphor:

“Bureaucracy”, yells the trillionaire hog;

Child-cancer funding thus deemed a mere log;

Sycophants cheering; he cuts his way through;

Forgive them not Lord, they know what they do.

Two old dictators make plans for Ukraine,

(Hitler and Stalin all over again?),

War-mongers everywhere gain a green light,

To vent their ambition, envy and spite.

Land occupiers make mockery of law,

Murder civilians; claim a “Just” war,

Cleanse a whole nation, deny human rights;

All with a God-promised land in their sights;

The stateless they robbed won’t be allowed near!

Can anyone not see the irony here?

Donald Trump; Benjamin Netanyahu;

Forgive them not Lord, they know what they do.

Truss’s economy wrecked the UK:

Thirty plus billion she wasted away;

She should be locked up in jail you might say,

Not living the high-life on taxes we pay;

We’re a “Failed state”, so the lettuce declares,

Claiming a government like Tony Blair’s

Is “Socialist”; and “Woke” is to blame;

Omitting the cuts she backed without shame.

Hundreds of thousands austerity killed,

While offshore accounts were callously filled.

Musk aims to maximise suffering now;

Who but a madman would give him such power?

Deluded Conservatives pledge fealty

To oligarchs, living off misery;

I say as an atheist through and through:

Forgive them not Lord; they know what they do.

Las Gaza

 Las Gaza

A pair of old criminals conspired,

To take over land they desired,

Where corpses unclaimed,

‘Neath rubble remained,

And weaponry ceaselessly fired.

Proclaiming a God-ordained mission,

Co land-grabbers bombed with precision,

And with His consent,

Vast billions was spent

Financing a mutual ambition.

Finally there came a cessation,

And after a short conversation,

The gangsters declared,

A deal roundly squared,

Displacing as such, a whole nation.

Now, under their jurisdiction,

Enabled by archaic fiction,

A clear up’s commenced

The land’s being cleansed,

And powerless, we watch

The eviction.

The Crat

The Crat (For Barney)

Dave, my old friend, had for years been away,

Caricaturing in Europe somewhere;

And on returning, he’d no place to stay,

No money, no food, no clean underwear.

The DHSS told him, when he applied,

“Come back in three months”, denying his claim;

As such, he was homeless; sleeping outside,

With only a bag of soiled clothes to his name.

Reclining his head on that pillow, he lay,

Underneath salvaged damp cardboard each night;

Passing the time in the library by day,

Catching sleep, stolen by winter with spite;

And as for eating, though he never said,

I’d hazard to guess: he begged for his bread.

Be that as it may; a charity gave

Him a sleeping bag, with kindly intent,

Though a tent would’ve been better, said Dave;

No matter; that night, to the farm he went,

Where lately, he’d taken to sleeping up close

To a cowshed, from which heating flowed free;

Enough to take the edge off winter’s blows;

A Godsend, at least to one such as he.

Snuggled-up-tight, and on the point of sleep,

He dreamily observed a cat, close by,

Cautiously approaching, as if to peep

At the heap that looked to be warm and dry,

And which Dave was more than happy to share

With a cat, as a child would a Teddy Bear.

I wish I could say he befriended the cat,

But alas, that would be mere fantasy;

The cat was more like a very LARGE rat!

A rodent wild beast, in reality…

…But as for what Dave was forced to endure,

I’ll leave it to your imagination;

Urging you on to the caricature

Of a hybrid of rat and cat persuasion,

Surprising a lonely destitute soul,

Like a jump-scare, in a horror-film scene;

If only the creature could have been whole;

A cat, not a rat, nor something between:

Companionship is a mutual need,

Albeit doomed to remain unfulfilled;

More equally mutual, fear takes the lead,

The caricature heads back to the field,

And the human, in want of a cuddle,

Gathers his things and leaves in a muddle.