Saturday, 29 October 2016

Hurtling Towards A Chaotic Breakfast

I make my way downstairs at speed,
At almost break-neck pace, indeed,
I stumble twice, but fleet 
Of foot, spurred on by greed,
Half sliding, in my stockinged feet,
My mind on 'eat all you can eat',
And how I've paid, have the receipt, 
And how I feel the need
To sample all, but not exceed
The bounds of decency, 
To feel more than just replete,
To feel the joy it is to feed,
Towards my breakfast I proceed.
I'll Take muesli to start with or maybe shredded wheat,
Eggs, and then black pudding 
(Thank you God for things that bleed)
I'll taste the rolls with poppy seed,
Spread with cheap jam, sickly sweet,
In contrast to the bacon and other salted meat,
Then take yoghurt, fruit, toast, kedgeree,
Drink orange juice as well as tea,
And when I'm done I'll go on deck,
Try not to slip and break my neck
And probably,
I'll barf chaotic breakfast,
Straight back out into the sea.

Wednesday, 19 October 2016

Suffer The Little Children

Suffer the little children to come unto me,
For such is the Republic of Marx,
And whoso shall receive one of these little ones
In my name, shall receive me.
By his beard and broad shoulders you shall know him, as a child of mine,
And whoso shall treat him not as a horse in the market place,
By inspecting his teeth,
But accept him at his own word,
Believing him when he says he is four,
Expressing no doubt in the truth of his speech,
Expressing no fears,
Forgiving his belief in a divine
Vengeful God who calls him to war,
Admitting crow's-feet as evidence of long suffering
Rather than years, is P.C.
And has my grace.
But whoso shall offend one of these little ones,
It were better for him that a millstone were hanged around his neck,
And he were drowned in the depths of the sea.
Woe to the world because of offences!
For it needs be that offences come; 
But woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!

Tuesday, 4 October 2016

Maternal Thoughts

I saw the train as I looked down the track,
A distant glimpse of yellow-metal back,
About to disappear around the bend.
I knew then you had the courage that I lack,
And hoped it somehow grew out of my fear,
That my smothering, mothering need to keep you near,
This push-me-pull-you wanting childhood to end,
This clinging need for one hand-crafted friend,
Had been the catalyst required
To send you out into the world to make your mark.

And yet I cannot quite let go,
This maternal way of thinking seems to grow,
I wish to live vicariously and have the knack.
So now you shape your future on your own, yet in the dark
Of the unknown, each seed of an idea
That I have sown, I hope will germinate,
And infiltrate,
Then growing to the light somehow illuminate,
So you see only brightness, never black.