Put in the boo tin

Golf car
Gulf war
calf gore
golf war
wolf car
Wolf wore
calf sore

In our shapes of desire
Even chased dreams tire
And cows and wolves flee
From the roar of free machinery

HIPPIE SONG (2000)

I see you crush and batter your babe
Smash her sad world in
and still you get laid.
Says that she loves you
you say your love’s hers
Then it’s over and done as you
fuck her then Fuck her!

See that you’re kicking y’ kids in the head.
Kiss them a bruise
as you scare ‘em to bed!
I don’t understand how you father this way:
As their look for you curdles
from love to dismay?

And from here I watch as your fights hit the streets.
Dim fists packing punches
most finished by feet…
As your violence erupts,
each night in the air,
even with this bad blood you are still unaware?

Refrain: Talk is cheap in deed
and grunts just mean.
This is where you lay the seed
that our children glean!

Not Waving But Cloning

A question, great scientists,
pillars of reason…
Why on our flesh do you action such treason?
This age of laboratory –
The light age, such wisdom!
Yet here you touch ‘God’
for your own private reasons.

A well!
A Tsunami!
A Mountain of cries –
underscores our crying WHY? To your lies.
While wielding the power
you wield on our lives
these copies you seek only light up Your eyes!

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow we’ll fathom you out
in the depths of our future
your lies will die out…
Then surrounded by bodies
and buried in gore
at last in our blood you’ll explain what it’s for…

Please.
Please,
let it be more than greed.
Or a need
just to prove it can be!
We’ve no need
to believe.

Cardholders

Cults of criminal violence breathe
Inhaling youth
Exhaling disease
Regularly stealing hopes and enjoyment
Cursing hard workers
And praising deceit

Where is your milkround, realm of the damned?
How do the misfits
Somehow find your band?
As the gravitas simply pulls all to your feet
only those like minded hardballs think freely!

At night when you’re busy
All calm and unwise
Don’t let my bleak torch
Burn truth in your eyes
Digital con’s, or pickpocket prizes
Broad as this country
You’ve no more surprises!

Lost only heart things
And not much there to start
Each day out to strike
May be one day your last.

That British Gem (or Why does the UK gov’t hate the NHS?)

I have this jewel of common good
A proof of social capital
Where every sick, poor, lost, doomed, soul
Is treated as individual
A simple pearl of light done right
Global beacon of the practical

This human rumour, shared response
My catch-all of public collateral
Has gifted our forebears the wealth of health
And pledged my heirs
Theirs in perpetual.
My gem of preciousness nearly unique
Endows a nation; achievable

Lately the state, for private account,
Seeks to plunder this bounty – sly and piecemeal
I feel their reach,
Their devious claw
The foetid breath,
The nocturnal,
And fear a loss so great and deep.

Still,
I doubt these Devils
unstoppable

Young children unsure of the benefits of sun-lamps, Bristol health centre, July 1948.

Young children unsure of the benefits of sun-lamps, Bristol health centre, July 1948.

Originally posted, then deleted, then posted again…

A ‘their’ crisis

The same see-saw of political woe
Tips again, sending Europe low
Incongruous savagery glitters in eyes
Drowning those caught in Mediterranean lies

As Persian calamities blossom their fruit
Following Western confoundings stamped red under boot
Where opportune bastards enjoy their destruction
The shores of South Europe lap with waves of disgust

It’s impossible, isn’t it, to see through the sea
This chronicled tangle of bloody hypocrisy
Lost on the minds of those leaders of fame
What smirks of confidence, for re-consciencing blame…

“It’s here” say the moppers who soak up the blood,
Whether northern beaches, whether the south
“We are to blame” call the lefties in Putney
Even while they choose here (“Arab murderous thugs”)

Glorious, pointless, baseless waste
Leaving no solid grounds for dissent except an onerous taste
Even while oil fields burn far distant skies
Ingenious savagery glitters in eyes.