‘D’ MOCK CRASS Y?    AND THE RULE OF LAW   

Oh Citadel of Westminster, look down on your creation:

millions of damned and blighted lives – the remnants of a nation.

Yes, you forgot that power corrupts, and honed your fell foul skills

till power, close to absolute, finds England wracked with ills.

Now this Quixote – errant knight – tilts at your spinning members

...

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If death is thought the ultimate

what price a part or two?

To be left as a mindless torpid trunk

the Elephant in the room.

And a limb’s not a limb – it’s a piece of shit

when blown into a muddy pit.

The scalpel only adds subtraction

in that theatre; sealing disconnection.

If death yields a hero – is life shame?

Return, with only self to blame?

Nobody t...

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(This poem was born of a Newsnight blogger's comment in 2008. Serendipity in 'spades'.)

The arms of the world reach up in despair

A desperate child, with no mother there;

As the armaments industry fashions war-ware

There is not much call for ploughshares.

The artisan’s hand cupped Britain’s prowess

When the smith made and mended the tools of success;

His arms now hav...

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As war’s abrasion strips his fine veneer

man’s inhumanity his ilk defines.

Bi-pedal dog, scent-primed, unleashed, packed off

he brings a licking to some wrong-tongued foe.

While back in civvy-street, his leaders rise

short-slept from tasting civilized excess

this day newborn in sinless rectitude

to move their boarded pawns with gifted guess.

In blinkered ignorance of C...

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But it’s prose! I tell you. Prose in short lines!

Running randomly like untrained vines

That cling to a garden’s formality

Reducing all to banality.

It’s prose! In case you did not spot;

There’s no artifice no syntactical knot.

No structure, no dalliance with rhyme

No touch ambrosial – sublime.

Yes its Prose!  It has no form beyond

That which robs meaning,...

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Miss Corfield, Miss Corfield, we’re destined as one

You a wood nymph, I a woodworkers son.

We both vibrate airwaves of Radio 4

You live and vivacious! I dead as a door.

With nasal enhancement and vamp-throated quirk

You take mundane news and you set it to work

Stirring old men, from straw hat to galoshes

Till backward and forth, my sawdust-blood slo...

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I know why violent crime’s going down.

Lads are totally drained, before they hit the town.

What with interactive porn and video blasting

They’ve got nothing left, their manhood is resting.

If the foe’s not eight foot, and moving like lightning

Not one synapse fires – he isn’t worth fighting.

And unless a girl’s shaped like 3D French Curves

She isn’t a trophy – ...

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This IS a poem. Just add line-breaks.

The sweet-wrappers of a bitter childhood still blow after me, with the tinkling sound of Angel wings; not trying to catch up, bringing tidings of great joy, but curious to see what my enduring negativity will yet do to me. Rage puzzles Angels; born, angelic and loved - to Angel mothers (did you not know?) they need no father, save He that, by definition...

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“In the midst of life we are in death.”

The angels wonder why

mankind hangs on to pointless breath

refusing just to die.

Three score and ten, is but hors d’oeuvre

we take another bite.

Spare parts fitted with such verve

fend off that final night.

The reaper stamps a tapered toe

his whetstone rasps an oath.

Sickly, and senile, came when d...

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I should have seen this coming – oh the guilt!

I nurtured each of evolution’s steps.

But now I beat my breast – the milk is spilt!

Till this Great Age shall close, I am regret!

I see it now; without the animal

no cerebral extension manifests.

But male potency hears just one call:

the one that I, upon the fool, impressed!

I thought I might slip w...

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                        (On seeing: “Pelican Daycare - six weeks to five years”)

If you can watch the life in you expanding, to land upon this sphere scarce half complete

If just a few weeks later you are ousting that unconsulted mite on Childcare Street

If you can strain your heart and mind and sinew, to earn a sum scarce meeting with the bill

Suppress the tearing, scream...

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What irony that women try

To emulate the world of “Y”

Where man’s degraded chromosome

Decrees he be a sickly drone.

Perhaps now that we know the truth

Shall women shun lies learned in youth

and power-dressed execu-dames

Espouse romance and changing names.

Yes, lets restore that status quo

That kept us stable long ago

When woman had warmt...

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(With great respect to William McGonagall)

“Conservatives must win here to stop 5 more years of Gordon Brown”

This was the flyer - approved and printed – subsequently distributed round suburbs and town.

And the people of Newbury – as is their wont – largely ignored its gaudy flaunt.

Though it might well be assumed its intent was - the more Brownophobic citizens - to daunt.

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MMMM

Mattress

Mistress

Bed test

Bliss rest

Hand felt

Heartfelt

Hand dealt

Heart melt.

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It is the Thunderbolt that steers the universe. (Heraclitus)

Feeble force of Gravity

Ill founded-university.

NB! Electricity

Overriding energy.

Universal current flow

Filaments may faintly glow.

Shorting yields an arc-light show

In short: all stars are “touch and go!”

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A sock lies still, alone and crumpled

Her husband left for partners-new

Tumbling midst myriad socky others

Occasionally coming into view.

Front-loader’s rumble whirr and hum

More versatile than Drake’s old drum.

Detergency now far outweighs

Matelot filth of far off days.

As Mr Sock has...

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The Moon feels naught in futile circling

far off in bland acceptance of our plight;

while in that feeble light we half-blind stray

to situations shunned in light of day.

Her beams afford us sight attenuate

allowing indiscretions - thought and deed

and poets then, that cold dead orb invest

with subtle attributes no whit possessed.

As folly nightl...

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Consider all the unconceived, they neither toil nor spin

Till called upon by selfish act of grossly unoriginal sin.

You read those lines and smile, perhaps, at whimsy’s gentle play

But Human Rights’ first law should be: ALL life may life gainsay.

By inference those who have reached cognized fertility

Should bow before the unconceived – the being yet to be.

An...

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Do not go easy into that cruel plight,

Life-latency should, combination, stay;

Rage, rage against the prying of the light.

Though cells, prior to conjoin, accrue no right,

Un-right usurped un-bid, entreats that they

Do not go easy into that cruel plight.

Wild sperm who caught and shot the ovum’s flight,

And learned too late, now grieving on your ...

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(To be read in Heaney’s ‘reading voice’.)

My chisel’s cold appraisal

Blunt as an English Master’s stare

Probes the poem for its pith.

Non sequiturs stacked neatly

Drying in a metaphoric sun

Supported by a splay of beams.

Redundancy is everywhere

Making the poet poorer than Midas

Who dare not spend a penny

Lest the golden flow shoul...

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Lest – lest, pay heed lest

we for-get we are the best;

lose sight of Old England’s story

one of endless power and glory

blood-and-gutsy, primal, gory;

triumph in each foreign land.

Might - might, ours by right

just remember might is right!

None surpass the English Army

foes like Hitler – all are barmy

same for Mullah, same for Swami;

Christ is E...

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Chilcot - a cold wind wraps Great Britain’s heart

Her archetypal refuge - cold as death.

He broke the last taboo for ego’s gain

In self-aggrandisement stole other’s breath.

And such is our disgrace, none barred his way

Save one whose easy Honour was upheld.

The rest in ignominy bowed his will

Outside: a million, impotent, repelled.

No darker hour this...

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(The ‘Liar flyer’ is now accepted in politics.)

The concept of integrity hangs slack

now Westminster’s dishonour is complete;

our politicians creed: “I’m alright Jack”

as in that feudal Chamber they compete.

Election time comes round - the party-mind

hones strategies to make a devil blush

with weasel-worded messages designed

to give that extra s...

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JOBSA GOOD’N

The preacher on the Radio

Says he’s changed his mind about Dave and Joe

But that chap who’s running the B&B

Still won’t let a room to a him and a he.

While the Archbishop ponders his riven flock

And says we all get a much whiter smock

When we come to the end of this earthly race

Whether or not we are arse about face.

But the question is: Wh...

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Gillian – no relation –

The nation was Browned off

Until homely-you homed in.

You sent him reeling -

Now we know the real Gordon.

His line was unacceptable.

The Gaffer seems accident prone,

Flat on his face again,

Eating grumble pie

And media source.

Though momentarily thrown,

He still aspires to one. 

C.A.D. 

Notes:  This purporte...

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The prussic laurel well adorns that brow,

That poisonous-poetic, promulgates.

A hedgerow evergreen, all overglossed

That glosses over inner, darker states.

Like too, her underneath – a tangled mass

Intense, en-tented, cloaked in odd address

Our sometime-poet chews uncareful words

That dead-lily her weirdness-milk express.

Long might she reign; quaint, queer...

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I stood upon the good, wood deck

Aways off the Azores

On high, high-seas with a saucy breeze

And the lubbers on all fours.

When St Elmo flared and ‘gulfed the poop

And me head was fit to burst

And I found meself way underground

With me protons all reversed.

They stared at me in unbelief

As their shiny kit pulsated

And backed away in some affray

Like m...

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And so to school.

A step inexorable

Where softest cerebrum

Yields - bluntly malleable.

Where Education’s mallet

Striking bold

Transform base mettle

Into beaten Gold.

Where Mammon reigns malicious

In the Son

And in the Daughter too;

His will be done.

Till all align, malign

And cancerous

To multiply - excel

Or ...

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How many die from Alcohol?

Many a score and then -

Can I get high another way?

High and back again!

I heard on weed that some go mad.

They do indeed – it’s true!

But many more died of alcohol

While I told that to you!

Can man escape addiction’s lure?

Not once it’s kissed his lip!

We’re all asleep in the ‘Culture Arms’;

A state-sponsored, l...

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Not Lions led by Donkeys

But ‘Ferals’, Feudal-led;

Civility we champion – through War.

Our mercenary dead

Politicians' ‘Donkey-Bread’

A feast of Heroism they devour.

Meanwhile we Monkey-chaff

Some jingo – some appalled

Take sides, and battle over what it’s for.

But the only certainty

Stands for all eternity:

While Weasel Words enslav...

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The love of war shines from the young man's eyes.

(What young girls shine with - quite beyond surmise.)

As Britain's vaunted army strides those lands

And trigger-fingers shake - bewildered hands.

What British madness guards the burglar's crown

From fearful force – unmeasured – I rain down,

Yet sends our warriors out against the foe,

To 'come in peac...

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They hoot that horn: “Hello!” “Goodbye”

No matter I am strolling by

And show the world the pig they are

While firing my amygdala.

My ancient ape gets in a bate

My hemispheres know mutual hate

And primal homicide thoughts blossom

Abetted by Corpus Callosum. 

They having passed, I then walk on

My endocrine excess - not gone.

I’m left to impotent...

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And did my Daddy call for war

And was it truly just?

For better or for worse, my dear,

In Daddy we must trust.

But mummy where does Evil live

That we know where to fight?

The dark of foreign lands, my pet

Far from this blessed light.

So do they hate us in those lands;

Will they cut off my head?

There’s Evil in the world my love

...

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I got a coaxing email

It said “I am a female”

The web is full of spiders

I won’t play ‘seek’ – but ‘hiders’.

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Mary was a little cow 

The lad was minding sheep.

He had her up against the wall

While Joseph was asleep.

She fixed her eye on one bright star

And dreamed he was a god

Henceforth: “The Virgin with a tum”;

Not: “duffed, by a randy sod“.

She told the family such a tale

Of impregnating wind

And wide-eyed, in her innocence,

Declared she had not sinned!

(It was no secret Jo...

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They started a war - a war in my name

the truth - they had to bend it;

they tore out the heart of integrity’s soul

now who will come to mend it?

Attackers came forth from the land of the sand

with a plot that the West vowed to foil.

They went to off war in freedom’s name

but the sand was not free from the oil.

The men in the suits in the sleek Cadillacs

looked out to the men...

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The Euro-Millions Draw - on Christmas Day

Tells all of Christendom’s effete decay

And loud proclaims the Saviour’s Holy Birth

Stands thirteen million silver pieces worth.

And those who know us as Great Satan’s lackey

Annihilating Afghan and Iraqi

Find naught accrues that mitigates contempt,

To Christians who do evil - to pre-empt.

Meanwhile, our Christian leader, piously

Dis...

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What bends the squaddy’s mind, that on return

Mates nightly sunder, as now, he in turn?

Perhaps it is munitions’ modern might

To shred, truncate, dismember, burn, or crush

That, set against  the Home Land’s lack of plight

Turns minds of finest fighting men to mush.

They serve him not who only sit and wait

Till mercenary survivor clicks the gate.

For though a fight is ...

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The wind blows wild as Rooks explode

In buffeted delight.

Spreading their wings into the squall

In roistering, reckless flight.

Their swirling tangled dance of joy

Proclaims a mastery

Of three dimensional excess

And death to Gravity.

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HELL MANNED

Technology - topography

Night-sights and indigenes.

Testosterone - an unmanned drone

And mutilation’s screams.

When Right fights Right - all wrong condoned

Munitious might defiles;

A flash to startle Celsius

As blasted blind blood boils.

No songs are sung to hero-bits

Named-parts no tilling share;

The Earth lies sterile, littered, lost

With hearts - eternal - rare.

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There's a better class of shopper up at Waitrose

(the 'shibboleth' of haute cuisine's 'quisites.)

Parking bulbous battle-wagons all akimbo;

Their trolleying, my poor oik-brain, defeats.

Gentility demands delicatessen,

My cheese-encounter verifies the rule:

She beat me as a Bwana beats a native

Shouting: "Serving girl - serve me, and not that fool!"

So I waited, out of turn, and sorts...

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Life's river, it would seem, has flowed too far

And on the bar, thrown up in wild excess

A mess that, once 'a life', now moribund,

Contrived a fund of folly unrestrained,

That earthly rivers, drained of fulsome flow,

Brought fertile lands to dust, where naught will grow.

It fell to man, this archetype to maim;

To claim the rivers his, to have and hold;

To make so bold that life...

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·         Tutu has a prolapsed disc;
God's made him the shorter!
Though creation He got right
He's rubbish as a wroughter.
So Lord lay off the little chap
Let Tu-tu dance once more.
Re-work him to his former height
And mightier than before.

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PLAYING OLD HARRY

(A counter charge to Andrew Motion's.

poem on Harry Patch)

A road-mender might well be 'Patch'

But cruel joke on a Squaddie,

Sent forward yet, still leaking life

From scarcely patched-up body.

Despatched on politician's whim

To corner foreign patch;

Earning mention in despatches

Or meeting swift despatch. 

It's Tommy this and Tommy that

But stark truth came from H...

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LOSS LEADER

See the barrels all aslope,

catch the bayonet gleam;

parade that advertising ploy,

snare the young man's dream.

Gun and knife - testosterone;

let death come slow or fast;

on our streets anathema,

over there - a blast.

And when the blast kills heroes,

we bring them back, adrape.

Home-grown they are just zeroes,

Asboes with collared nape.

One grave shall hear the...

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CHOICE OF VEGETABLES

  (Peter's old pocket watch.)

A watched turnip gathers no time

A buttered parsnip no words.

A pint-pot gives no quarter

And parallel loins - no one girds.

For the stopped watch sees nothing more,

And the blind watchmaker's tick

Ensures his time is wasted

By a misplaced inapposite nick.

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STROKE

Mad falsehoods fill the fallen hero's head

as ghosts advance apace at reason's yield.

They trample 'cross his muddied neurone map

where synapse-stumps bestalk a battlefield.

Born into life's affray, scarce half equipped,

his strategies too few for victory;

with elegant redoubt of mind's finesse;

Babel at bay, he shunned cacophony.

But now comes ignominious collapse;

hi...

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TAKEN AT THE FLOOD

 (Written November 2007)

With party politics played out on Mars

the populace in betting shops and bars;

where plastic bags take plastic shopping home

safe ‘neath democracy’s great plastic Dome

and somehow credit’s bought where none is due

as carbon belches from yet more Heathrow;

proclaimed Kyoto targets are all bull

and planting one small shrub pays dues in full.

T...

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                 IRAQ WAR ENQUIRY

(The frank and fearless Barrie Singleton Report)

Bush or Obama

Cowboy or charmer

The American way is no mystery.

If you're not 'with us'

With terror you mess

And you're plumb on the Wrong Side of History.

Anthony Blair

With deceitfulness flair

In omnipotence felt his divinity.

His efforts in war

Left a gangrenous sore

That will heal - the wrong...

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NOBLESSE OBLIGE

That projectile velocipede

The cyclist's silent steely steed

With sharp projections - myriad

And ridden by a wild eyed lad

Now hunts among the halt and lame

Where tots and tott'rers are fair game

To bring a wind of change, and fear

To folk once free to back and veer.

Dame Esther Rantzen raised the cry:

"Be helmeted or you might die"

But fervour fades - and no...

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