Tuesday 7 March 2023

News porn

An Oakeshott to the face
hands on the Hancock
revenge news the new taste
lock down on lock
gargle the clickbait
hands up Hancock
an Oakeshott to the face,
revenge news, gargle ejaculate.

Monday 27 February 2023

Border business

Pop, pop, pop
drops the copper
from another hood,
a bygone era
aye so we hoped.

Hope, hope, hope
what a whopper
aye came to blows,
chaos on the border
run to the meadows.

Sop, sop, sop
aye came a cropper
now who's in the mood
for the show stopper,
pop, pop, pop
drops another whopper.

Image first uploaded in English Wikipedia as en:Image:NIrelandDerryFreeJM.jpg by en:User:Guinnog

Derry/Londonderry, 1986

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

Thursday 16 February 2023

The Sturgeon

Must we really now contemplate
the passing of sturgeon to char or skate?

The sturgeon effectuates caviar,
preferable to swill-supped salmon by far

but a dying breed, its rivers dammed,
a future less than certain. Drammed

right down to the cold, hard marble,
I hear her voice in the ether warble

a melancholy reel of reason sounder
than the garbled nonsense of the southern flounder;

The sturgeon whiskered and wise,
the flounder flatly lies. 

Monday 24 October 2022

The cuckoo's bronze egg

Today I spied a cuckoo fly
above a golden cignet's lair
and for a while she settled there.

She left a bronze-laid alloyed egg,
for the swans had blinded eyes,
and she cackled at her own audacity.

Unwittingly they nursed that egg,
tainted though it made the nest,
as when the bronze defiler hatched
he slew the chicks and flew,
where he knew best,
at one with the pigs in the sky.

Friday 9 September 2022

Not my family

I cannot feel sad. How can I be?
I did not know her, she didn't know me.
Understandably, some mourn.
She has been an evergreen, if slowly withering presence.

But she was born into luxury. Sheer, entitled luxury.
She had dibs on all the land under my feet.
And so does he.

No-one made them serve, if that's what it is.
My taxes paid for it.

Can we leave it as it is.
An antique.
A relic.

Queen Elizabeth II,
the best, and last, of a brazen bunch who never had a right to rule over me.

Saturday 6 August 2022

Rishi rich and thick Lizzy

No chance of win if inflation sticks,
Rishi rich says, as thick Lizzy
strays down the Tory u bend
where it's hard to bleach,
never mind brush,
so deep down.

I wonder who'll clean it up?

A new election dawns,
Rishi rich plucks pennies from the pawns,
golden ducks trot through Tunbridge lawns,
quacking maniacally, guffaw,
they don't know any better, the poor.

Tuesday 24 May 2022

Amber Heard and Johnny Depp, and the terrible tale of power

Some say, forgive them,
that Amber Heard,
or misheard,
mutually abused
that jolly pirate rogue.

I don't buy that.

If I bought that,
I'd have to conclude that Ukraine
mutually attacked
the Russian invaders.

One must not hit back, you know.
Take it quietly.
Think of England, or Putin. Something.
Just deal with it.

But in the plays of power
that's the narrative that sustains.

Shit stains on the bed (disproven),
for some,
proof she had it coming.

Millions in Gaza displaced,
their homes taken away,
their schools and hospitals razed.

Yet mere stones and miscellaneous rockets,
against the missiles and air defences,
brand the abused the aggressors

according to the oppressors.

That's the poison of power,
this narrative that's hard to shake.

And so the the popular opinion rests
with the one they like to think
is their funny, pirate friend.

The other?

At her wits' end.

"And you dare to call me a terrorist,
while you look down your gun,
and I think of all the deeds that you have done.

You have plundered many nations,
divided many lands,
you have terrorised their people,
you ruled with an iron hand
and you brought this reign of terror
to my land."

Thursday 5 May 2022


Stuff everywhere, this planet,
too much stuffing stuff,
hardly room to move,
hardly time to stuff,
sake for stuffing stuff.

They stuff it in the mail,
needless paper stuff,
full of my stuffing details,
so I stuff it with more stuff,
gathering stuffing dust.

Stuff for the sake of stuffing stuff,
stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff,
get me off this planet, please,
to stuff up someone else's stuff.

Saturday 19 March 2022

The gold-laced wind

Fleeced in flaxen light,
the wind must now be golden,
my energy bills swollen,
as my fair wits face a slight
yet without recourse to fight
the injustice,
the gaslight.

I cannot bluster surprise
through my wool-beclouded eyes,
when there's no price paid for greed,
cronyists hoisting the lead,

When the markets crash
once again they'll soar on gold
laced winds above the clods sold
down many a mud strewn trail,
matter churned to no avail,
bilked, diddled out
in the cold.


Thursday 27 January 2022

Liar Liar, House on Fire

Pro rogue was a true enough description of Johnson's rise,
throbbing whopper after throbbing whopper,
as embers from his blazing saddle set curtains alight
and he brazenly wafts an empty extinguisher.

Liar, liar! Call the opposition benches.
Too much, says Mr Speaker, take it back.
One cannot, in this parliament, declare facts,
that would be quite untoward, and without precedent.