Friday, 31 December 2021

New Years Eve 2021

 


The hyacinths, lopsided, listing to the light, 

In “this is all they had left” shades

Of sickly, pale pink, and lipstick hues, too bright,

In sea green bowl with lustre glaze, that never fades 

To softer greys and duller blues towards the coming night,

Emit a perfume, barely noticed on the kitchen air,

A pale hope left hanging, slightly sweeter than despair.

A New Year hope, a timid thing, perhaps a prayer,

A call to simply be allowed to do what’s to be done,

To live according to one’s will and simply bugger on. 



Tuesday, 2 November 2021

Astroturf

  


Grass has no roots, these days, ‘cause ‘climate change’

We only have the plastic, fake sort now, 

Nicely edged and neat, no need to mow.

Ironically it’s made from fossil fuel,

It’s ‘green’ in that it could not feed a cow,

Yet flourishes in clouds of fresh, hot air,

You know it’s ‘real’, you see it everywhere

And hear it whispering its lies,

Tellin’ the sheep what aint so.


Grass has no roots these days,

It carpets floors in power’s corridors

But there are those

So taken in by this fake green, that they protest,

Convinced, they are themselves sincere,

They push rebelliously at open doors,

And tell the state to act on what it knows,

And what it knows is astroturf, 

Fertilised with bullshit, with the power to distort,

The deep fake movement that it grows

In order to convince itself it has support

For decisions it has made, which cost us dear.






Thursday, 21 October 2021

Antisocial

 I disagree with everyone I meet,

And feel uneasy when I'm lying,

I'm not cut out for nodding through deceit,

I was designed for arguing, defying.

I cannot socialise, therefore,

I don't like other people anymore,

I want to slap them round the chops

With cruel truth, then see them crying.

Thursday, 2 September 2021

Honest Lying

 


Everything is propaganda now,

The world adores Edward Bernays,

And who wants blunt truth, anyhow,

Unpalatable things aren’t in these days. 

So where to look for honesty and find

Something like it, close, perhaps akin?

Something that speaks plainly to the mind,

Does not attempt to get beneath the skin. 

Not the news, which is the left or right,

Dressed up as fact

Like some first try transvestite,

Unconvincing, yet so boldly mincing

Words one wishes to believe,

Out of good manners, training, tact.

But in the adverts in between,

That maybe packaged, wrapped

In all the clever lies, so clear and neat,

That we admire and then pretend to swallow,

Here is honest, clear deceit,

Genuinely worthless, empty, hollow. 





Sunday, 29 August 2021

Study Shows Public Fed New Bullshit Every Day



A study in the journal Nature shows,

The public are still being fed BS.

A study by a scientist who knows,

Will demonstrate they would not care for less,

They're used to propaganda now, you see,

They're happy inside Plato's cave, secure,

And bullshit tastes delicious and it's free,

So let them take their fill, then give them more.

A study in the Lancet makes things clear

A new computer model has predicted

The public will demand more every year,

And also ask that they should be restricted,

And that those who still question things be shot,

Philosophers think everything's a plot.

Thursday, 19 August 2021

Fast Food Joint, Pompeii

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-9879451/Pompeii-Remains-snack-bar-served-duck-snails-paella-2-000-years-ago-opens-tourists.html


Duck, Snails and Paella,

Roll up, roll up, Roman fella,

I have a hunch

You’ll need your lunch.


Snails, Paella and Duck,

Will bring you great good luck,

Duck, Paella and Snails

As the lava flow trails,

Glides, slides down Vesuvius’ sides,

You’ll hear the screams and wails

As you yell a

Farewell, away you will flee 

Hot footing it, literally, down to the sea,

And you’ll give a kind thought to the seller,

Of Duck and Snails and Paella,

Who provided the fuel to the coast,

Where you think you’ll avoid being roast,

Where you’ll hide from the tide

In a sea cave or grotto

Where yet you’ll be boiled alive, like a squid

And not feel that I did you much of a quid

And won’t live to do me a pro quo,

But in that last moment at least you will know 

Your last meal was duck, snail Paella, 

And not boring old slug, goose Risotto.  

Tuesday, 10 August 2021

We will not rest until 100% of the goal posts have been shifted


I will not stop until I’ve finished here,

And since my work, by nature, cannot end

I will not ever stop, so have no fear,

I am your man, on me you can depend

I’ll push this thing as far as it can go.

The headline writers will not headlines lack,

I’ll keep them fed and keep them in the know,

As far as possible, and then change tack,

And set a fresh, new course for us to follow.

Which I will claim will be the best of all.

I’ll make the whole change easier to swallow

By claiming I’m responding to the call

Of practical concerns. I never drift,

My life’s work's getting goal posts to shift.



 

Wednesday, 28 July 2021

Truth

 Truth

The truth dawns. 

That is how you know it,

Mostly it dawns literally,

But perhaps it’s always dawn somewhere,

So if it should dawn

When it’s not yet morn

Where you are,

Don’t eschew it,

Don’t reject it,

Don’t blow it,

Imagine you’re there.


Truth dawns

But don’t expect to shoe it

Into one of your pre-existing theories,

Or discover it.

Truth, frog-like, spawns,

In safe places

But you can’t uncover it

By determination,

Although it leaves traces,

Clues,

Truth is not news, comment, views,

You might get near it,

But remember, near is

As good as a mile.


Truth plants seeds,

But germination 

Sometimes takes years,

And truth seeds don’t always grow 

Amongst your other ideas,

Truth might be biology,

But it isn’t ideology.

Truth doesn’t care 

About what you think you already know.

Though when it hits you

You might shout “I knew it!”

Truth has no style,

No affectation,

Isn’t prone to exaggeration,

Needs no long winded explanation,

And is not always easy to digest,

However long you chew it.



Tuesday, 27 July 2021

Real Fascism Has Not Been Tried, Recently.

 Real Fascism Has Not Been Tried Recently


No, this authoritarian approach

Is not the Fascism that I admire,

But I don’t care for questions or reproach,

Ideas and history still light my fire.

And no, I will not now concede 

That any ideology is wrong

That says consider first the ‘in group’s’ need,

You needs must prove by action you belong.

I know that vaccine passports aren’t the way,

Experimental vaccines can’t be forced,

But give me ‘in group’ thinking any day,

In theory, in discussion, quite divorced

From what is going on from week to week.

I’m not some lefty individualist

The truth and best way forward’s what I seek,

And yet I can’t abide a pragmatist.

And real Fascism has not been tried,

And who today is Caesar, ‘One Great Man’?

Bill Gates, Klaus Schwab? Such men must be denied

Simply on the basis that I am not their fan,

Since they disguise their psychopath’s ideas,

And don’t acknowledge all their thinking owes

To Hitler, Franco, Mussolini, those

Who came before.  And scared of people’s fears

They hide behind the ‘green’ agenda still,

Their thinking is not national but global,

And they care naught for beauty, what is noble,

And using dread disease impose their will

And style themselves as would-be hero Nannies,

Who, killing the economy, 'save' grannies,



https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-9826097/Family-woman-77-say-treatment-Essex-care-home-tantamount-torture.html












Sunday, 25 July 2021

On ‘Post Pandemic’ Hymn Singing

 

Two rondeau joined together 





Sung Eucharist and hymns, today

And sunlight pouring in to pray

And warm the ancient whitewashed walls

And still yet empty choir stalls

And hear the musty organ play

The Sanctus and the Agnus Dei,

And know that we had gone astray

But had returned, and that our calls,

Sung Eucharist and hymns,

Were some repentance for the way

We’d never dared to disobey

Our earthly leaders. Lacking balls

We’d shut our mouths. In power’s halls

They’d hoped to end by slow decay,

Sung Eucharist and hymns.

And always out of love we sing,

And give our thanks to God the King

We must learn lessons we’ve been taught:

Our good intentions come to naught

When bossy men claim everything

Could dread disease to others bring,

Though this is nonsense, as hymns spring

From prayers and praise and kind support,

Always out of love. 

And loving God removes the sting

From all our earthly suffering.

We should have argued, should have fought

But lacked the balls and so were bought

And now take orders from a ‘ping’,

Always out of love?

Wednesday, 21 July 2021

Dropping Off


A fraction of a dream, dense, small,

Before the moment of the fall

Into the full engrossing sleep

An image, most intense and deep,


A vision and a distant call


A picture drawn from some rushed trawl

Through visions stored we don’t recall,

And from the bottom of the heap,

A fraction of a dream.


Sometimes it warns and can appal, 

So we cry out, although we drawl

Our tongues in knots, we wake and weep,

And know that what we sow, we reap,

And what we are is here, is all,

A fraction of a dream. 

Monday, 19 July 2021

The Hardy Ones Beloved By Bees

 I gardened once, compulsively,

Which means I shopped obsessively,

And learnt the lovely Latin names,

Of tender things, I grew in frames,

With RHS books close at  hand,

I scoured the internet and planned

My garden as a hiding place,

A dream, a paradise like space.

And yet the work that was required

To keep it as I had in mind

Grew faster than the weeds I'd find

Had killed the rare things which I'd sought

And raised by hand or gladly bought

At great expense.  And only now I understand

As I lie reading in my chair,

Or simply sitting still, to rest,

In put on, tired frailness,

In summer heat and gentle breeze,

That common things are often best:

The roses which sweet scent the air,

The catty smelling elder trees

And even thoughts, as dull as these

Have meaning in their staleness,

Like hardy things beloved by bees.





Thursday, 15 July 2021

Democide (Deaths in 'Care' Homes, Deaths from Experimental Injections Against Covid 19, Deaths From Lockdown, Deaths From 'Saving the NHS ' at the Expense of Treating Patients with Serious Illness Other Than Covid, Death From a Determined Desire to Decrease the Popuation Because of 'Climate Change' Etc


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Democide


Family of woman say treatment by care home 'tantamount to torture'



https://mol.im/a/9826097

Though once we did not speak of 'democide',

And governments themselves don't use the word,

Yet their knowledge of its meaning, by their action is implied,

Though areas are grey and lines are blurred.

There were those whom the government preferred

Should trouble them no longer, such men died,

Government disposed but yet no cost incurred.

Though once we did not speak of 'democide'

For modern men were satisfied

That those dependent on the wisdom of the herd

Did not dispatch, wished merely to divide.

And governments themselves don't use the word,

Yet boldly act it out, quite undeterred

By moral principle, their actions coincide

With what they call the public good, which is absurd.

Yet their knowledge of its meaning by their action is implied,

Daily, and governments have always lied,

Ambitious politicians whipped, demurred,

Their Christian objections cast aside,

Though areas are grey and lines are blurred,

So ignorance is easily averred,

By those who do not own their acts, but hide,

Such cowards as they are. Yet undeterred

We shall not now let evil men preside,

Though once we did.

Tuesday, 13 July 2021

Where Our Sense Of Self Begins in 2021,

https://unherd.com/2021/07/the-chinese-future-isnt-bright/



(based on the above essay in today’s Unherd, which was actually quite good, but one line in the conclusion annoyed me) 



“Every generation has to re-define what it means to be “free”, where our sense of self begins. In a digital age our individuality begins at the place where our data cannot understand us. Freedom emerges in the space between the algorithms and our actual lives. Tech can deliver many wondrous and terrible things, but it will always fall short of really knowing what makes us human.“


This generation feels the urgent need

To re imagine, comprehend anew,

What freedom really is. This generation must succeed,

For they believe their forebears failed. They view

Their task as more than progress for the few;

They seek to benefit us all, proceed

As if they have some fresh, trustworthy clue.

This generation feels the urgent need

To understand where self begins, it's not agreed.

To set the world aright for all, it seems requires a slew

Of legislation drawn up in haste, at speed.

To re-imagine, comprehend anew,

Our individuality, requires us to construe

New interpretations, how much should we concede?

And were there those who ever knew,

What freedom really was? This generation must succeed,

Convince the people not to act with greed,

For freedom’s simply data’s end, where we are not seen through,

That’s all. Ignore what’s gone before, they plead,

For they believe their forebears failed. They view

The notion as complex, fraught, and seek to strew

The onward path with technocratic jargon, each phrase a weed

That multiplies, grows tall and dims from sight what’s true,

So liberty’s a distant place, always seeming to recede,

This generation feels. 

Sunday, 11 July 2021

“The thing I would, that I do not; and what I would not, that I do”


The thing we would is just not true,

The thing we would is just a plot,

And this is useful for our schemes

Derived from some great point of view,

Would often lead us to extremes.

The end point of all rational thought

Is not the truth, as we are taught,

For logic leads us to distort

And find solutions which are short.

And then what we would not

Is what we do,

And since we do it, we know that it’s true,

So truth is what we would not

And false is what we would,

What hope is there for man,

Who seeks to do what’s good?