Crows

Stone the crows
Or, actually don't
It'd be better to feed them
Or else they won't
Bring you trinkets
Bring you gifts
The sorts of things
That lifts
The heart
And the soul
So grab some peanuts
And fill a bowl.

http://m.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-31604026

Preamble

Life's last preamble
A misery of treeless deserts
Where sand in your sandwiches
Would be welcome.

The grit in your eyes
Declares tears of longing
Betraying the human hope of that
One in a million heaven.

For it's only in the griping days
Of failed bodies
Shattered joints to be rolled up
And cremated.

Was there another path
In the warrens, amongst the maze
Down the mirrored corridors was there power
Or is it fated.

Looking back there are always
Turning days that smile
In an unknowing destruction
Selling you down the sunken paths
That rut and rot you
Or across the least travelled obstruction.

Mischievous

A mischievous morning
You get on my nerves
Where playing with the radio
Is just the hors d'oeuvre

A mischievous morning
Getting under my skin
Where half of your breakfast
Ends up in the bin

A mischievous morning
It's beginning to wear
You've pulled down your BAHA
And it's caught in your hair

A mischievous morning
It's starting to grate
If you could keep still
I'd get your nappy on straight

A mischievous morning
And I'm off to work early
I'll leave mum in charge
Of this hurly burly

Sea

I dream of the sea

That shushing sound
Rolling off the tongues of the waves
As they lap the shoreline

That salty taste
Crusting the tips of the breezes
As they flavour the air

I dream of the sea

As it hugs me deeper
Into its currents of sleep
Crashing me into joint waves
Of hope and despair

I dream of the seabed

Jagged rocks mattressing themselves
Into crushed remnants
Of worlds long dead

The sea sings to me

In my lullaby stupor
Overcoming me with its dark embrace
And drowning me
In another waking night

Write?

If no one reads it
Should it exist?
Should it have been written
If it gets dismissed?
Is it a waste
Of paper, of time?
If not then why
Does it often feel a crime?

After all there are only
So many hours
Days, lives are short
Responsibility often towers
Above me
A shadow dark
And it seems so selfish
To begin to make a mark

I am paralysed
By the fear
A confusion of worth
For my mere
Utterances
Feeble wordplay
Pithy rhymes; For is there
Anything my verses say?

Really
What do I do it for?
Therapy
A need to pour
Inkblots of my mind
Into every word I write?
Or a hope I'll hit on
A phrase that will delight?

Dragon

Dragon
Flies with a colour
Of delight

Shimmering
Through the streets
Amongst

The teeth-bared
Crowd swooping
In celebration

Soaring
With the fire-cracking
Winds of explosion

Roaring
With flapping excitement
Of carnival

Waking

Woke up to daylight
An earlier rising sun
Lighting up the dark

Waking breath of Spring
Flower bulbs stretching their arms
Yawning at the light

Birds with mating songs
Twinkles of chicks in their eyes
Warmth in their voices

Waking with the light
Are promises of short-sleeves
Thawing Winter’s spell

Doze

Lying in the dark
Waiting for the snoring
Cosy in the blankets
But still it's boring

It sometimes takes an age
Before you settle in
To your cot and end
All the fidgeting

So in the bedroom dusk
My eyes begin to close
And before I know it
I've begun to doze

It seems that I forgot
While lying in a heap
That it was really you
Who was meant to fall asleep

Callous

Who was this man
And what did he expect
When he chose to use the Metro
Direct from work
Perhaps home to family
Or out to visit friends
Did he forsee the aggression
Enacted there
Or the racism so casual
And laid so bare

And who were these men
If you can call them that
More like thugs up for combat
To inflict pain
On an innocent fellow traveller
Who happened to look different
Still human
Still a person not deserving of disdain
And yet bombarded by
A callous, toxic refrain

 http://www.theguardian.com/football/2015/feb/18/met-police-join-search-chelsea-fans-caught-abusing-black-man-film-paris-metro

Questions

It's rabble day again
In the chamber of elected horrors.
An undemocratic display
Of sidesteps and swipes
Evasions and invective
Huddled and heckling
In the massed ranks
Of party lines.

Performing
Not for those whom they claim to represent.
But for the corporations
The fatcats and the lobbyists
The swindlers, the donors.
You wouldn't pay
To see these performances
Of incompetent comedians.

And yet we do pay
With our lost jobs
And shoddy services.
Imploding infrastructure
Complicit corruption.
But who is to blame?

Have we been equally complicit
In the erosion
Of the bricks of society
By our disengagement.
Or have they unwound
The bonds of trust
And instead trussed us up
With soundbites that pit us
Against each other.
Or is the system beyond repair
A broken record playing
Us along to the same tune
Every five years
Where only the backing track changes.

These are the questions we need to ask.
These are the questions we need to answer.

Topping

Start it simple
Maybe with honey
You could use treacle
As long as it's runny

Freshly chopped fruit
Fluffy whipped cream
Really go together
Just like a dream

Or peanut butter
With jelly on the side
Nutella spread
And apple rings fried

Grate some cheese
Add an olive or two
Anchovies if brave
But only a few

A little sliced ham
Or any type of meat
One chilli pepper
Just for the heat

Sausages would be tasty
Hardly going to town
With mustard and sauce
Tomato or brown

Whatever your topping
It's difficult to choose
But don't go for boring sugar
With drizzled lemon juice

Name

It's been my name
For a while,
Not that I've heard you
Say it before.
My alter ego.
A self different from
The others I've created.
Less selfish.
More caring.
And I care that you say it,
Filled as I am
With fear.
To let you down,
Now that you recognise
Who I am.

Worm

Be warned when you step out in the wet
Of the creatures that swarm the ground
Bugs and beetles, creepy crawlies
That down there can be found

For as you tread you must beware
Unless your tummy is not one to squirm
Since you might find upon your shoe
The entrails of a worm

Love

Love is the first
And love is the last
Love is the future
With a shared past

Love is the kissing
And love is a fight
Love is making up
No one wrong, no one right

Love is the happy
And love is the pain
Love is the losing
But also the gain

Love is supporting
And being supported too
So tell that special someone
"I love you"

Headphone

Darker chords inside my head
Melody sings beyond
Angels of a different flesh
Take up a cutting bond

And striking in a starry arc
Upon the skin-stretched drum
The song it echos louder now
Above the unearthly hum

Which bursting in a tonal edge
Echos with thunderclaps
Of demon applause within the wings
Hiding the strangled slaps

The chorus laughter rumbles on
Between the chainsaw smile
Of poison lips seduction barbed
Savage beauty to beguile

And waiting for a solo part
Like a man with a missing limb
The drill bit fixed between his teeth
Whines like a devil hymn

So with meat hooks or with scary masks
Or hammers with which to pound
We'll kill the beating, tinny frames
Of that buzzing headphone sound

Garden

We enclose ourselves within
These glass and metal structures
We call life.

Steady jobs and mortgages
Cars on the driveway
Money in the bank.

Savings for a rainy old age
When we shed tears for the loss
Of youth and the passing of friends.

But I see in a dream a garden
Of tangled roots
Family trees entwining.

Forever summers, sunshine and air
Open spaces which live our
Open-ended lives.

Freedom to cross-pollinate
To cultivate our experiences
Into wilder colours.

Fertilising ourselves
Into a richer soil
Of civilisation.

Auction

Come and pay to spend time with MP's
In their normal everyday lives
Jogging and shopping for shoes
Club dinners including their wives.

If you've got the cash you can buy us
We'll do all we can just for you
The party for the well-to-do classes
For the special, privileged few.

Come and pay to spend time with MP's
Chew all you want of our ears
Landlord subsidies, lower taxes
Pension bribes to be in charge five more years.

If you've got the cash you can buy us
We'll auction off the UK
If ever society existed
We'll destroy it if we have our way.

Come and pay to spend time with MP's
If you've got the cash you can buy us
We'll happily live in your pocket
Paying heed to what you want to discuss.

Couple

I remember these days
When we were just a couple
Wandering in the Spring sunshine
Warming our backs
With nothing over our shoulders
But our shadows.

I remember these days
When we were just two
Strolling in the Winter snow
Leaving tracks
With the only pitter patter of feet
Our own.

I remember these days
When we were just a pair
Traipsing in the Summer heat
Eating ice-creams
With any mess
That of our own making.

I remember these days
When it was just us
Falling through the Autumn leaves
Chasing dreams
Which were filled only
With ourselves.

Again

It's the 5am nightmare
Again.
Screams and cries
From the cot
That wake you
From your dreams.
Warmth and softness
Lost.
As you hug
And cajole in the cold
Hardness of the night
Terrors attempt
To close in around you..
As they drift back off
You lie back wide awake
Unable to sleep
Again.

Freezing

Freezing cold on the platform
A chill within the air
The winter winds are rustling through
But as the train pulls in I dare
To dream of a carriage nice and warm
A shelter from the world outside
As I begin on my commute
To work at the end of this ride

But as I embark it feels as if
I'm entering a giant fridge
There's no sign of heat anywhere
Not a bit, not even a smidge
And I sit there watching my hands turn blue
Feeling's gone, my fingers are numb
And strangely I'll wish for overcrowding
The collective warmth of yesterday's scrum

Suck-up

The mother of all suck-ups
How else can it be explained
By the man who once upon a time
Might have become ordained

Once they called him the 'mad monk'
And he must have been insane
To give Prince Phillip a knighthood
What was going through his brain?

These awards are already archaic
Without meaning in our modern life
But at least give them to someone deserving
Not a man with a Queen for a wife

Fireball

Their fires burn
With idealistic passion
Against the freeloaders
Skivers
Work shy

They stoke the flames
Of entrenchment
Poor against poorer
The weak
Vulnerable

They set a blaze
Upon the state
Destroying welfare
Support becomes
Ashes

Until tragedy strikes
And a life goes
Up in a
Fireball
Of their own making

http://www.cheddarvalleygazette.co.uk/Cheddar-Gorge-death-Inquest-human-fireball/story-25972122-detail/story.html

Snowman

Swirling snow floats in flurries
As down towards the ground it hurries

Sheets the pavement in purest white
In children's faces is wide delight

As I tighten the scarf around my throat
The mini-blizzard coats my coat

And though I scamper to shelter as quick as I can
I remain resembling a real snowman

Shortage

Another subsidy for the rich
For the landowners who sit
On their empty homes, their brownfields
Whilst the renters take the hit.

'Affordable' already a phrase
Without meaning; Just a calculation
Without a basis to peoples wages
And a reason to feel frustration.

For those without deposits
On zero contracts, minimum wage
Who want to own their own homes
But will rarely reach that stage.

They say it will bolster building
That more homes will exist
But since only the rich can secure them
A shortage will still persist.

More council homes are needed
And the wealthy should meet the cost
Since time is slipping away until
Generation Rent is truly lost.

Inspired by: http://www.theguardian.com/society/2015/feb/01/property-developers-affordable-housing-councils-empty-building

Parasite

A parasite is hidden
Beneath our noses
Between the lawns
And the beds of roses
Up our high streets
And down our lanes
Infecting us all
Taking over our brains
It has infiltrated
Our daily lives
Our husbands have it
So do our wives
Children expect it
When they come of age
People pay to have it
Handing over their wage
Yet it chokes our lungs
Cripples our legs
Blasts our ears
So it really begs
The question - How?
Did it get this far
Being slaves in thrall
To the motor car