Thursday, 14 December 2017

A Meaningful Vote

The demos, back in June, 2016,
Had voted in their millions for control,
But politicians thought this was obscene,
That governing a country was a role
For people better, higher, greater than
Themselves.  For foreign chaps have so much style,
Sophistication wafts about each man,
Who, schooled in obfuscation and in wile,
Has all the charms belonging to The Prince.

An Anglo Saxon attitude’s no use:
Plain speaking, wisdom, trying to convince,
Is just a game for mugs and the obtuse,
Those idiots who wished to bring it back.
The modern world requires a foreign touch,
The skill to rule that white will now be black,
Without first having a debate.  For much
Of what’s required today, is just excuse,
For poor decisions politicians made
Last week, last month, last year, and why confuse
The plebs, by offering some subtle shade?

So, in December 2017,
Our politicians had their honest say,
They voted for the chance which they had seen
To stop the demos getting their own way.

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

On Listening to Neil Mac Gregor on Living With The Gods, Radio 4

Your voice, perhaps a little cold,
Yet certain, clear,
Reaches through the ear to the brain,
Where new ideas take hold.
And I feel peace, 'flow',
That joy in comprehension
As you explain
And also, nostalgia for this kind of radio,
This 'public service broadcasting'
Built on the assumption
There was a public who wished to know.
Not a thousand publics, compartmentalised,
But one whole, who, year by year,
Gained knowledge, by listening, 
Stored it up, so that from fact, 
Wisdom materialised, 
And, who demonstrated, by sharing and repeating,
That though the medium was transient
'Airwaves' imparted something lasting.

Monday, 12 June 2017

How It Really Is.

To 'love one's neighbour as oneself', requires
One first to love oneself, so one might know
What sort of thing love is, yet it transpires
One is not lovable. One cannot show
One's neighbour love therefore, and so instead
One settles for a paltry substitute -
One stops just short of wishing he were dead.
Since, if he were, one could not institute
One's little squabbles over trivia
And breathe them into fiery campaigns 
And elevate them to quadrivia -
Important subjects, which he then disdains,
Refuses to address, but out of spite,
Pretends that at some future time he might.

Wednesday, 10 May 2017

2 am

The cat has no conception
Of the crime 'cultural appropriation',
He's howling and shouting as if he's Siamese.
Stalking the long corridor,
In my direction,
Testing acoustics he has tested before,
Caring nothing for my disapprobation,
His worms need feeding and he can't cope with his fleas.

Tuesday, 2 May 2017

The Loved One

Nearly 50% of Funeral Venues have the capacity to live stream ceremonies via the internet:

"Mr Joyboy has fixed up the camera in the corner,
Your loved one looks, so beautiful,
We've given him the beatific smile,
I'm sure every mourner,
Here, and those who can't attend, but dutiful
To the idea of "paying their last respects",
Watching online, will agree.

Some of Mr Joyboy's special effects:
Eg. the "scream" as the coffin enters the furnace, you'll see
Go down particularly well,
With our more youthful clientele.
While older mourners, the ones who still insist
On being an "in person attendee"  
Find it a bit upsetting,  who can resist
The temptation to turn a funeral into a scene
From a horror movie,
Especially when it's going to be seen, on screen?

For an extra fee
Mr Joyboy can arrange knocking
To come from the coffin, 
And one of the undertakers to rush up with a key
To try unlocking it
And letting your loved one free,
Only to be defeated,
As the coffin rushes towards the fire.
The inevitable end, can be filmed in slow motion
Then repeated,
To drive home the memory.

Of course we all aspire
To show our devotion 
To our loved one in ways that are dignified,
We don't want our relatives and friends to be mortified,
But movies are best with some kind of action.
Take advice from Mr Joyboy,
An expert in both film and funeral direction."

Monday, 1 May 2017

A Little Ditty For Mr Farron (to the well known hymn tune)

Jesus shall reign, where the sun don't shine,
For acts of buggery are quite divine,
If you want votes, forget your soul,
Declare you'd put your Roger into any old hole.

Thursday, 6 April 2017

Some Form Of Umbrage

Some form of umbrage can always be taken,
And the small, perceived slight will always awaken
The mind to another small grudge, stored away,
Wrapped up with care, 
For a special occasion.
And the slighted are right, they are never mistaken,
And poke at their wounds all day
And dig in their heels and will not be shaken,
Enjoying the sense of grieved frustration,
Believing themselves alone and forsaken
By friends who might dare
To suggest that they are 
Victims of their own, 
Petty, imagination.