The starver hears but must ignore,

being answerable, not to the many,

but the few’s blood-lusting roar,

strings pulled with many a pretty penny.

lover he, of fascist shores,

solution final, they’ve demanded,

in hock to genocidal boors,

with filthy lucre he’s red-handed.

is there no arse he will not lick?

needs must that he stand by his man;

no conscience has that stan...

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I fear for the soil

The mother and

Child in tow

The gentle hello

To my foreign wife

I fear that when

She leaves the house

She might not come back

The bus stop is danger

The supermarket

The train

Walking down the streets

I called my own

But now they are “Theirs”

And we must be quiet and hide

Until my country comes back

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Fascism needs tools.

Holocaust survivor banned

From speaking the truth.

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SCARLET TRIANGLE

Desperate bid

For re-election

Social media master plan:

Twist public perception

Of who the real

Public enemy is

The real dangerous mob

The real security risk

"And you shall know them

By this distinctive sign":

Scarlet triangle

Inverted design

Bright red as anger

Hardly concealed

Bright red as blood wrath

On these stree...

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Democracy died in the Senate chamber
When Supreme Court justice was never heard
Through a guileless force of legal obstruction.
Respect for law fell like old holiday garland.
A complacent nation did not demur,
Thinking true fascism could not recur,
Power transferred to a political poseur.
A complacent nation watched it’s legal destruction
And Democracy died.
They quickly forgot what they ...

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Intolerants not welcome - The battle of Lewisham 13.08.1977

An anti muggers march, called by mugs who wanted to spread hate

August thirteenth in ’seventy seven, history demands we mark the date

when South East London screamed out for black and white to unite and fight,

ensuring wronguns on right would never again be so bold or bright.

The backward Front was in for one...

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Saint Hate

The day he prayed to Saint Hate

was the day he lost his soul,

spat blood on the pavement,

pissed on the homeless,

broke bones for fun.

The day he prayed to Saint Hate

he surrendered his humanity,

lit a candle to the little god

who sat upon his shoulder

adding weight to the chip.

The day he prayed to Saint Hate

he put on the white hood,

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Colour me deeply in high tension blue,

like the power lines that hang over you,

show the charred remnants of fleshy pink

which hint at what washed away in the sink.

Days of weeks and weeks of days pass by,

all I can do is cling on until I cease to cry,

knowing that pain is a way of life for too many,

lost souls all searching for love - is there any?

Take the path ...

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