Dispatches

As midnight's veil of dark approaches
The time for rats, the time for roaches
A mist descends to frame the world
And the path from living to dead unfurled
When we awake to our darkest fears
That bring us shivers and torrential tears
Palpitations of a fevered heart
And shuddered bones are smashed apart
Those terrors are breathing; We give them life
As our hopes hang troubled on the edge of a knife
When a magic word can speak them away
Bringing up the sun of a new dawns day
So remember, it's you who has the power
To bring to dust their ivory tower
If they might listen, then they might heed us
Halloween was a time for dispatching leaders

Pen

The pen it seems has lost its strength
Ink is not what once it was made of
And our words are only virtually there

A text or tweet spun out in an instant
Unconsidered, unromantic, lacking colour
Prosaic pixels are defining our world

But our access to knowledge is chipping away
Bursting dams of censure, smashing chains
Breaking hegemonic wisdom and freedom

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/oct/30/bic-teenagers-pens-dead-paper-handwriting-relic

Answer

When is an answer not quite an answer?
When it's an answer to a Prime Minister's Question

When it goes round to more houses than a travelling salesman
And barely quite reaches suggestion

They might call them soundbites, but don't try to chew
They'll more than likely give you indigestion

The traffic lights of truth are all stalled on red
In a tailback of dishonest congestion

http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2015/oct/28/jeremy-corbyn-six-tax-credit-questions-david-cameron-straight-bat

Detached

You wonder what
Goes through the mind
Of a man
With that kind
Of money

That he would set
Such great store
To make an effort
To vote the poor
Poorer

That someone could
Be so detached
With priorities
That are mismatched
To life

For some with which
He has some claime
Down the years
To have entertained
With truth

The truth of love
The truth of hope
The very things
Which help us cope
With misery

But his phantom
Technicolour world that's
Filled with Bombay Dreams
And dancing cats
Is off the rails

Furnace

A blast furnace
In your lap
In a hug from
A fevered child

Arms wrapped around
Like bands of scathing metal
Breath like molten
droplets of fire
Skin radiating
Like a second sun

It's then your hot fire
Burns the brighter
Amidst fear
And desire for recovery

Unmoved

Sitting silently
A train filling the siding
Has it turned to stone?

Despite the delay
It's unmoved to commuters
They cannot begin

Unfathomable
No information divulged
As the dawn creeps up

Ravens

What is truth?
And what is memory?
When we look back
What do we see?

A labyrinthine
Convoluted past
A mirage of magic
And shadows cast

Flickering torches
In tunnels of the mind
Where we see what we think
We want to find

Perceived wrongs
And imagined slights
You could have succeeded
Given fairer fights

Or of a warming
Rose tinted glow
In the hope that it was better
All those years ago

These twin ravens
Can misdirect us
Confuse, confound
And disconnect us

Beware that your memory
May be leading you astray
Truth isn't what it always seems
In the cold hard light of day

Conscience

Money has no conscience
It is neither good nor bad
It is the men who wield it
(And it is always men)
Whose deeds are motive clad

Not caring where it comes from
More interested in it's uses
They'll hold hands with dictators
(Elected, hereditary or otherwise)
And ignore all their abuses

When it comes down to it
What's stronger than greed or lust
Principles are out the window
(Or get blown away)
By the slightest political gust

Honesty is just not valued
It has no intrinsic worth
Yet the power of generosity
(Despite being incalculable)
Really doesn't cost us the Earth

Instead it's all the fighting
Over territory and resources
It's only death that battle brings
(Despite any talk of honour)
Shared amongst opposing forces

And the real truth never goes public
War can be in anyone's name
It never matters who starts it
(The winner is the most just)
In the continual thronal game

So is all hope for us lost?
It is if we let them win
We must clamour for integrity
(Even if they pretend to be deaf)
Making an almighty din

Tell them they can't put money
Ahead of what is right
Freedom of speech and opinion
(Also gender, race, colour and creed)
Commanding only from a moral height

Masters

As a member of the serving class
You have to know your place
Be grateful for our magnanimity
In allowing you to clean our space

We pay you enough money
To entice you out of your bed
But we are not responsible
For your shelter, that you are clothed and fed

You see, you're not all that important
And you really don't work that hard
You try entertaining foreigners
Or keeping the country constantly on guard

You think you should be treated as human
No. You're insignificant, you're small
We are your lords and masters and
You'll wish you said nothing about pay at all

http://www.theguardian.com/society/2015/oct/19/foreign-office-cleaners-interserve-living-wage

Uncoupling

Is this a conscious uncoupling
Between the cost of living
And the cost of a roof
Over our heads

Our overheads
With the deletion of rent
Are diminishing
As is our ability
And our hope to buy

We are trapped
Like the hamster in a wheel
Scampering faster
To stay in the same place

Staying in the same place
Even as our needs
And families increase
Conditions more cramped

The cost of moving
Is a barrier we cannot leap
Kept in situ
By the watchtowers and rabid dogs
Of unscrupulous landlords
And foreign buyers
Of buy-to-letter's
And unhelpful government

Is it conscious?
We'd like to think not
But if so, more shame on them
As they pull the ladder higher
Out of reach, out of sight
And at the same time
Pulling the rugs from under our feet

http://www.theguardian.com/money/2015/oct/16/average-monthly-rent-hits-record-high-of-816-highlighting-housing-shortage

Selection

It's like getting to jump the starter's gun
Before the pistol fire
Or winning a race of motor cars
By slashing your opponents tyre

Given a chance at the putt again
Or being shown an open goal
A bigger wicket to aim at
When it's your team's time to bowl

The only thing selection brings
Is advantage reinforced
While the poorest get pushed further down
Opportunity divorced

http://www.theguardian.com/education/2015/oct/15/first-new-grammar-school-in-50-years-what-you-need-to-know

Tie

As a species
We make first impressions
Quicker than the blink of an eye

With our gut
We make our decisions
On prejudice and don't question why

But if we change
The processes of thought
Then it might be time to say goodbye

To choking
And the discomfort wraught
By the wearing of a tie

http://www.theguardian.com/media/2015/oct/13/robert-peston-bbc-justin-webb

Dildo

Would every girl in this class
Please leave her penis outside the door

It's a grossly offensive weapon
Which I truly do abhor

You wield it like you're showing off
How proud of it you are

Dynamite anatomy
Which can leave a mental scar

So lock it up, hide it away
There'll be no prod or poke

Or you'll risk the ire of rifle loving
Wholesome gun toting folk

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-34507760?ocid=socialflow_facebook&ns_mchannel=social&ns_campaign=bbcnews&ns_source=facebook

Chair

I wake up in the chair
By your bed in the night
You're still asleep
With your toys, tucked in tight

My legs have gone stiff
Muscles steeped with cold
Evidence that earlier
You wouldn't sleep when you were told

You hadn't had a nightmare
That seemed fairly clear
And it wasn't that the dark
Had filled you with any fear

You were just being clingy
Demanding hugs from both of us
And yet after you got them
You carried on with your fuss

Fighting and complaining
You would not lie down at all
Until finally you gave it up
Staying still in dissenting sprawl

And as you slowly drifted off
I gave comfort by your side
Until I sank into the chair
To catch up on sleep denied

Wish

It’s a tragedy for peace

This inability

For some to cease

Bombs and bloodshed

For their cause

And the dealing of death

Without a pause for thought

For the innocence

Of the lives they take

Or the dents that they make

In the civility

Of our society

Leaving us with pain and anguish

Over hope and love

Against our every wish

Light

There is the light of inspiration
That can fire and traumatise a nation

The light of dark clouds blowing in
Which chafes against the growing din

The light that's seen through autumn trees
Like orange blood that weakens knees

Or the light of summer sun-kissed ocean
Which tugs you with a forward motion

The light of love's exploding force
Ending in bitterness, despair and divorce

And the light with which we see the world
Truth and pain seen clear unfurled

So do we keep the naivity of night?
Or open the box and bring forth the light?

Cohesion

Torn apart,
And then privatised
Decommissioned, sold,
Or carved up to be franchised
Closed down, or amended
With their terms revised
And yet it's the immigrants
Who are being chastised

Schools have to change
All their priorities
And no longer answerable
To local authorities
A stretched NHS
Struggling with capacities
And yet the blame
Is on ethnic minorities

The railways, post office
Now held for financial gain
And we're having to justify
The BBC again
They say "Go Home"
With their ad campaign
Criticising immigration
With the same refrain

The truth behind
The country's lesion
Are their closures, and destruction
Region by region
Setting poor against poor
Weakens the glue of adhesion
And it's there you will find
Our lack of cohesion

Lemsip

It's a flavour of Autumn
That goes with a cold

Hot like the fiery colours
Of the turning leaves

And lemon tartness
Of the chillier winds

Steaming like windows
Condensating

In a fevered turning on
Of the heating

And swallowed
With brittle-sharp pain

Of a year
In arthritic old age

Tug

The grey swirling soup
On the screen
Shapes burst and recede
Into recognised formations

Snowstorm minatures
In a black sea background
A floating miracle
In a bag of life

And then the fleeting glimpse
Pulsation
And your heart beats
In sympathy

Stirring you into smiles
Of relief and wonder
As you feel the tug
Of parenthood again

Bribe

Being paid to increase
Their wealth
To the detriment
At the expense
Of our health

And being bribed
To allow
Some of us to die

But it's also
A sign of mistrust
In their professionalism
Their ability
To do what they must

That they would have
To be incentivised
And bought despite
All that they've been taught.

Leading us to
The reasons why
Some will be allowed
To just walk away
And die

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-34421115