Sunday, 11 April 2021

Ulster forsaken

Empty shelves tell their own tale of Brexit woe
in a troubled land forever forgotten,
by those with whom some choose to form a union,
cast aside by that ill considered vote.

Once it was Catholics who were second class,
civil rights marches and innocents culled
until four decades on peace was fulfilled,
only for all Ulster to now taste that bitterness.

When will the English learn never to draw lines
between lands their dominion left distraught? 
Petrol bombs mark old tensions newly fraught,
and we shudder as violence reignites. 

Saturday, 10 April 2021

An ancient relic of a subjugated land

An ancient relic,
decrepit, passes away
yet the sun still shines

over the remnants
of a subjugated land,
sick with fealty.

Twelve centuries
of uninterrupted rule
makes fools of the serfs

who plough the margins,
pushed out by the royal walls,
loyal to the last.

Saturday, 3 April 2021

How to get away with kidnap and torture in the UK (white privilege)

Let me shine some light through the tinted lens
of this supposedly colourblind state
by revisiting the tale of four cruel men,
one of whom would chance an untethered fate.

Chance, or institutional racism,
I will leave that down to your discretion,
member of the jury, whose sparkling prism
is undimmed, I'm sure, by predisposition.

The evidence incriminates all four men,
who bundled two victims into a car,
pistol whipped one with the back of a gun
and battered the other's toes with a hammer.

The incidents happened on separate nights,
registration plates traced to the bloodstained pile,
which CCTV showed in plain daylight
led to where the criminals would stay a while.

It was a crack den, where torturer's tools
further implicated the gang: DNA,
in hairs left by the violent young fools,
attached where the tortured had been bound by tape.

Skin from the knees of the victim linked him there,
singed onto the coiled metal of a grill,
hard to tell through his mutterings of despair
whether the aim was anything but mere thrill.

At the scene of the second kidnapping,
video showed that a cap was left behind.
That cap yielded DNA, led to a sting,
and each of the four men were held in binds.

As incontrovertible as that may seem,
though the evidence lay starkly in sight,
the sentences were six years, nine and nineteen,
for those who are black, but what of the white?

Members of the jury found him not guilty,
though video and DNA placed him there.
So much for your colourblind society,
his guilt is as plain as your bias laid bare.

Friday, 2 April 2021

Spoilsport corona haikus


The R is still one,
or above. So be careful
in the Easter sun.


One fifth get it long,
so think twice before joining
the jubilant throngs.

Thursday, 1 April 2021

In these corrupted isles

In these corrupted isles
criminals run the ship,
charlatans at the helm,
philanderers hoist the sails.

Amidst these choppy seas
they ride the crest of a fearsome wave,
rogue as the land they have flooded
with cronyism and deceit.

In these corrupted isles
the lighthouses no longer shine,
no beacon to the forlorn,
whose hopes shatter upon treacherous reefs.

Amidst the wreckages
they prey on the castaways,
who with nothing cry for help,
and send them back to sea.

In these corrupted isles
the BBC no longer reports their ills,
through oversight or will,
as colluders and donors dictate the press.

Amidst these crumbling cliffs
waves of apathy undermine
the shaky bedrock
of our eroding society.

Thursday, 25 March 2021

When loons run the asylum

Every day I love you less and less, UK,
as you obsess over the desperate,
desperate to deny them passage or rights.

The first nation to deny asylum outright
proudly flies the flag of its dominion,
mocking its subjects into praise of this hate.

I fret for the future, fear for our fate. 

"Capitalism and greed", Johnson haiku #1

Then we're all agreed.
Greed and capitalism;
Conservative creed.

Wednesday, 24 March 2021

Grammar haiku #1

Alice and I dined
She gave an apple to me
I ate myself sick

Haikus #1-6: Leopards and peacocks


The leopard skulks 'neath
this tree my banquet table
purring with delight.


These boughs are laden
with fruits that one day will fall
and I must follow.


A swarming carcass
tells of prowling predators
alert to my steps.


the struggle intensifies
this desperate heat.


Against the dust brown
bright peacock feathers foretell
the coming monsoon.


The thirst to survive
quenched by thunderous downpours
of ominous clouds.

Tuesday, 23 March 2021

Twitter poem #1

Nuance newly found,
free of twitter's inane chains;
black and white charade.