Bus Wanker

Bus Wanker

Driving is overly stressful these days:

Everywhere speed and traffic-light cams,

Pothole plagued A roads, and motorways;

Pile up related delays, traffic-jams,

Deserted roadworks; inevitable

Detours down country lanes, dangerously dark

And light years away from residential

Streets with barely anywhere to park;

The constant cost of tyres - offside and near

Refitted from only a week ago,

Not to mention the tracking - front and rear,

Realigned, following a costly tow,

Courtesy of torrential rain

And a caved-in, neglected, blocked, storm drain.

Upon the crossing of a bridge too far,

And subsequent fine for paying late,

I gave up on driving, and sold the car;

Arriving as such at a happy estate,

With no insurance, repairs, MOTs,

Or fines, not least for encroaching the lanes

I frequent for fair, affordable fees,

Oblivious to potholes, neglected drains

And cameras, such as mentioned before;

And if the journey takes longer, who cares?

I’m able to read or watch YouTube more;

My only concern’s an increase in fares;

I’m a bus wanker, when all’s said done;

And car trouble free; I’m glad to be one.

Commoners like us (an acrostic)

Commoners like us (an acrostic)

Theology strives to solve religion,

Rocket fire furiously falls from the sky,

Utopian dreams, are a fool’s mission;

Monsters maim millions, school children die,

Pummelled by patriot missiles misaimed;

Accidents happen, the offender shrugs;

Naturally terrorists will be blamed;

Doubtless the lies will be swallowed by mugs.

Never again, again, and again:

Ever get the feeling you’re being cheated?

The reels are rolling, the theatres remain,

All the old films are being repeated.

“Never again”, wrote Meir Kahane,

(Yitzhak Lamdan coined that phrase).

Archaic laws in biblical vein,

Herald in make believe Halcyon days,

Unlawful settlers, occupation,

Aided and abetted, often by

Rightist elites, of fascist persuasion:

Epstein associates, easy to buy;

Callous, filthy-rich, paedophile

Rapist, self-entitled, feckless

Idiots photographed and kept on file:

Multiple heirs, in states of undress,

Invested in power and wealth creation;

Narcissists, basking in immunity,

Allied with leaders of a rogue nation,

Lying and killing with impunity;

Silencing critics via default

Accusations of prejudice;

Naysaying every truthful report,

Decrying their murderous recklessness.

Gone is international law

Ensuring advances in view of world peace;

Nuclear arms threaten once more,

Oligarch wealth is on the increase,

Crimes against humankind’s normalised,

Industrial prisons are amply built,

Demagogues, rarely criticised,

Answer to no one, despite their guilt;

Like mafia bosses, Dons by name;

Monetary rule’s the name of their game;

Arrogant arseholes united are they;

Nourished by greed, impervious to shame;

Insatiable beasts; and we are their prey.

All but obliviously lost at sea,

Commoners like us, one day will be

Sharing a dinghy, literally.

Take Down the Flags, Hang Flowers Instead

Take Down the Flags, Hang Flowers Instead

Early one morning, in my dressing gown,

I, having opened the curtains, espied

A Union Jack, hanging upside down,

Atop the disused old lamppost outside;

And later that day, I saw many more,

Hanging from nigh every post in the street;

I strolled on, perplexed: what were they all for?

A celebration of Windsor’s elite?

A final I’d missed, that England had won?

Impossible news, of a Brexit deal,

Highly beneficial to everyone?

Or an armed forces memorial drill,

In remembrance, announced by a bugle?

Ours is a garrison town after all.

Or, was it a foolish interpretation

Of patriotism: a misguided

Zealousness, fuelled by misinformation,

Nostalgia, prejudice, lopsided

Media, gullibility, frustration;

A magnate manufactured culture war;

A celebration of tax evasion,

Greed, billionaires, the broken rule of law;

Repeated use of the adjective, “GREAT”

Applied to a past that was anything but,

When wealthy landowners governed the state,

Purses were jealously guardedly shut,

To your GREAT GREAT grandfathers and mothers;

Their sons and daughters, sisters and brothers?

Pondering this, a ladder I ascended,

Cut the ties; and the “Made in China” flag,

Crowning the obsolete post, descended,

Landing beside a council black bin-bag

And some plastic flowers, that, for all I knew,

Could have been made in the same factory

Yet, being prettier than red white and blue,

Beautiful even, comparatively,

I hung them and made a statement that day,

With a view to, maybe starting a trend,

And after the colours were thrown away,

I hoped that mine had been left till the end,

If only to sow a seed in your head:

Take down the flags, hang flowers instead.