Like It’s Easy

I used to vote for Labour but I’m Tory now

For Tess is on my side so all is swell

Mother Earth incarnate with some great one-liners

She’ll fight my side and give the Euro hell

Used to be a socialist with common aim

But now I’ve seen the error of my ways

A right-wing party full of millionaires

I know they’ll care for me through all my days

Used to fight for workers and the rights of men

But now I trust in what the Tories spout

Fuck all the pensioners, the sick and the destitute

Fling all the foreigners out

Used to have a conscience but that’s over now

I’ve shifted sides to get a better deal

Man mind thyself is an awesome creed

Not rational, who cares, it’s what I feel

Won’t have need for hospital, I’m healthy, see

I’m never getting old so that’s okay

No family to care for and even if I did

I’d do it all myself for that’s my way

Theresa speaks my language now in trite soundbites

She’s closer to the cause I cannot name

Hallelujah, peace on earth, I’m Tory now

May god forgive my choice, I have no shame

 

He doesn’t. And neither do I.

 

If you’ve ever had a conscience or cared enough

Tell me why you now believe the right

Have they ever fought for you or your family

Have they ever even had you in their sight

Don’t tell me, like it’s easy

If you’ve ever thought of anyone but you

Vote for that party and take the pain

Society depends on what you do

Devil’s In The Detail

When I said I’d have a party

I sure meant it

Ain’t no one throws a party like I do

Devil’s in the detail

Entertainment

Mind-altered states

My guests know what to do

No need to lift a finger

Mere suggestions

Hordes they come

To thrash the night away

Shoehorn in as many

Pun intended

Then watch as all invited

Play or pray

Ain’t nothing like my parties

They are legend

Men they come and go

But all the same

Good and evil vying

In an orgy

Pointing fingers

Doling out the blame

Aspersions cast

It gives me so much pleasure

My nature, see

What can a devil do

But party on

And plan a new dominion

Premises worldwide

More than a few

Not my fault

I’m only party planner

Devil’s in the detail

As I said

Up to you lot

Invitation only

I’m just the maggot

Worming in your head

Justifying

Parties that deliver

Worst excesses

Esteemed, by me

The best

Received your invitation?

Hocus pocus

Cast my spell

Now you can do the rest

Ain’t no party

Like a devil’s

When delivered

What I do

It’s only in my name

See you on the 8th

I hope you’ll be there

Kiss it once

Then you must take all blame

Breaking The Curse

learned to live with fortune

in the realm of poverty

where poverty is relative and claused

reflecting on the ravens’

hard-hearted princes in their towers

counting crowns of peasants without pause

riches something finer

than gold coins or stocks and shares

weighted in the pans of wealth and worth

rebalancing the measures

by means of minutes, days and hours

tipping scales of justice where they’re cursed

Joker’s Wild

You play first among equals

And I’ll play second fiddle in the back

You be the straight guy

And I’ll be your sidekick

For human touch and humour that you lack

I’ll do the wisecracks and you do what’s bidden

And we’ll have them rolling in the aisles

You do the poker face

While I pull the funnies

And confound them with laughter heard for miles

You be the bad guy and I’ll be the hero

Waiting in the wings to save the day

It’s all in the timing

The tokens and the teamwork

A Johnson joke and Fawltied Theresa May

You be the arsehole and I’ll be the bumfart

Farts get laughs

While arses take the blame

You do the lead-up and I will deliver

It’s all in the nature of the game

You play elections and I’ll play the long game

Joker’s wild, related to the face

You be the knackered

And I’ll be the thoroughbred

Snorting at the finish of the race

You play first among equals

And I’ll play second fiddle to a bro

You be the rebound

While we guys regroup and practice

For the sequel of the bloody Brexit show

 

You do the guesswork and I’ll do imagine

Who’s unusually quiet, writing lines

You do geometry

And I’ll do arithmetic

And calculate the odds of signs and times

Broken Chains

(source)

Broke the chains that bound, it wasn’t easy

Tied up to myself and my desires

A simple twist of fate was all it took to

Quench the flames and put out burning fires

A hurricane, tornado then a blizzard

An avalanche that tumbled from nowhere

Nature took a hand, and for good measure

Threw in a meteor then solar flares

Burnt and bruised, I questioned what the game was

What I’d done to hurt or to insult

Her answer, lightning storm, inside a teacup

That purged my soul and vanquished worldly guilt

A shell of self, so battered from the pounding

Cleansed, I felt, from tiptoe to topmost

Surely, she was done when I was dusted

By a sandstorm that eroded every ghost

Chains were lying, scattered all around me

Picked the pieces up, those broken links

Smile was wry, confounded as in childhood

Didn’t know what I should do, what I should think

Gave them all away, I didn’t need them

What good were chains all broken, of no use

What good were chains at all, I started thinking

Even golden ones are no more than a noose

So, I broke the chains that bound, it wasn’t easy

Well, if I’m honest, I was really given ease

By a simple twist of fate, blown in abundance

What didn’t kill me gave me my release

Been singing most of today and this popped into my head when I got home from school. Think country for the tune and I’ll hum it from here. 🙂 Long weekend ahead so it might be that I feel free! Have a great one!

Are We Fools?

Pride postures

Doesn’t think

Reveals its feelings

Lives its hubris daily

That’s its way

Decisions drafted blindly

Blinkered bullshit

Evidence of arrogance at play

Language of superior perception

Then wonders why and scoffs

When natives rise

Out of union

With no hint of sadness

Governance unjust

Of those unwise

No self-reflection

But for backward glory

For days of yore

When empire ruled the waves

Citing some equivalence

As righteous

Behold the truth of union

England save

Let us be Britannia

That story

Etched in minds

So privileged, promote

Ideaology, will not see buried

Ignominy, in parliament, by rote

The only flag that matters

Is the George cross

Andrew, Patrick, David

Servile names

Problems to be solved

And always have been

Extinguish nationhood

For other’s name

Woe to you, usurpers

Of the celtic

For fallen follows pride

As sure as fate

Come the day, the hour

Relive your words here

Masters manifest

The words of hate

Dismissing while upholding

Such is legend

In lands where one suppresses, ridicules

We are not slaves

Nor your possessions

Canny, aye

But are we fools?

Came across this video today on Twitter. Makes you proud to be an equal partner in this great union, where respect and progressive politics are at play. Imagine actually saying this! Funny, eh? No sense of humour, we Jocks. Inferiority complex, they say. Wonder why. Off now to the psychiatrist’s couch to discuss Stockholm Syndrome in hopes of convincing others we don’t need this shit. Who does? Tell me. Any independent country out there who would like to rejoin the fold and be patronised again? Any? Didn’t think so.

Sarah’s Purpose

Sarah’s purpose changes, coloured cotton

Delivering the tree of woven threads

Something in the name of one begotten

In house of many branches, many beds

Sarah’s purpose pending, without ending

House topmost in limbs of fallen tree

Shaken at the roots, its other children

Strangers in the promise of the free

Sarah’s purpose changes, milk and honey

Recipe of sweetness turning sour

Sarah’s purpose changes, blood and brethren

By the minute, come the purpose, by the hour

The Quality Of Mercy – According To The Tories

‘The quality of mercy is not strained’

It droppeth in a form eight pages long

To mitigate for third child born from rape

And only when thou proveth thus was so

For mercy hath a limit, don’tcha know

 

The quantity of mercy hath been changed

All kids thine own may only count as two

For first two count, they are still blessed

An heir and spare, so preordained

And anyone with more hath half a brain

 

The quantity of mercy’s prearranged

In payment thirteen pounds and forty pence

For that should keep a child for ’bout a week

And really thou should have a job that pays thee more

Or two or three. That’s what poor lives are for

 

The quality of jobs is where it’s at

Thou should have got a chairmanship or such

Had friends in all the places that pay well

With bonuses and shares, expense account

For, it is decreed, that such jobs count

 

The quantity of hours in any day

Can now be stretched, extended as seen fit

In such ways, thou always now can work

For working cleanses souls and idle hands

Must always be kept busy, leisure’s banned

 

Thine quality of living’s thine own fault

Thou really must be shamed for being skint

Many hoops there are to make thus fact

And worst of cases filmed to entertain

Distracted public needs to ridicule your pain

 

Thus we count on garnering support

All scapegoats chosen carefully to show

The reason thou can’t clothe and house thine weans

Is not the fault of policies made to address

Our lack of mercy and godawful mess

 

The quality of hardship will be worse

Intervention from the state set to austere

With food banks on the side when things get tough

And Shylock’s basking mates will always bless

Jaws really gave poor sharks the worst of press

 

The quantity of earning’s a moot point

A minimum’s been set so that’s alright

Just live according to your means

And never mind essentials on the rise

Essentials are overrated – Surprise!

 

The quantity of bedrooms hath been fixed

And anyone with extra hath a cheek

And so it hath to be that people move

Tho’ maybe thou hath lived there all thine days

Tough shit, thou should have thought of other ways

 

The quality of disability’s up for grabs

Thou really must be dead to prove thee ail

And when thee are six feet under, be assured

We’ll help thine kids for all of several months

Bereavement’s no excuse for lazy cunts

 

For the quality of mercy hath not changed

It droppeth on the queen and all her breed

No matter just how many crew she hath

For that is just and righteous in these parts

All royalty and knaves move noble hearts

 

The quality of buildings must be saved

But only if they’re big and palace-like

Whereupon all pennies can be found

Even if it’s billions (or for bombs)

Whited sepulchres must be managed with aplomb

 

The quality of business hath been revoked

Some salvaging required to ease the pain

Worry not, tho’, lesser mortals, wheesht

Thou shouldn’t trouble selves with grown-up guff

Phew, that’s a relief, thought we were stuffed

 

The quality of humour’s in dispute

Wanker’s not a word that must be used

Tho’ it hath been sanctioned by the BBC

And worse is done in mercy’s tender name

No, the quality of mercy is not strained, it’s merely pained

*******************************************************

The quality of common sense hath gone astray

Some big boy stole it then he ran away

And blamed it on the suckers who must pay

That could be you or I but let’s not say

The quality of mercy saves the day

*************************************************

With sincerest apologies to Shakespeare who wrote of mercy kindly and with understanding. And who had a sense of humour.

Couldn’t have been a Tory, I’m thinking.

Ooh, look!

 

Pavement Possibilities

It started just like many other nights

The moon was silver

Stars, merged with errant clouds

Could barely gleam

A lonely owl made much

Of covered darkness

Deserted perch in search

Of prey he’d seen

Still air was clear and calm

Vague scent of roses

Drifted on a whim

Of teasing play

Lungs filled with wonder, sights

All senses tingled

The ending

Of a perfectly good day

Suspected nothing more

My thoughts untroubled

Meanderings so vague

As to forget

Except for something niggling

As I wandered

How fleeting peace and beauty are

And yet

They’re everything that’s striven for

In a lifetime

The beauty felt in love

That knows no end

The comfort of compassion

Peace among us

The value of good neighbours

And best friends

Nothing more than musings

On a pavement

With home nearby

Some yards to reach the gate

When, out of nowhere

Moon and stars blinked, helpless

And shuddered

Ending peace and changing fate

In an instant, all I knew

All I remembered

Of peace and love and beauty

All that’s good

Lay shattered, in the ruins of craven madness

A blitzkrieg, from a neighbour

Chocolate covered

Relaxed, while orphans, widows, now all stood

I turned again

In absence of a reason

Hope blinded at the sights

That I surveyed

How, among the chaos

Was I standing

And what should be the message

I relayed

Hate filled my breast

The need for vengeance

Tragedy demanded

Some new cost

Escalated madness

Justified as

Revenge and payment

For all that I’d lost

I’d find a way to make them pay

For malice

For ignorance

For stealing what was fine

With nothing left to lose

I’d have my vengeance

In the terror that was given

I’d have mine

 

It started just like many other nights

The moon was silver

Clouds departed

Stars were visible

All peace and beauty

Love nearby, still cherished

The idea of a bomb

Quite risible

I met my neighbour then

While out in moonlight

A person hardly known

Her ways, mere guess

We ventured to establish understanding

In the glory of the peace

That starlight blessed

We chatted for a while

Found common kinship

In the children that we loved 

Sworn to protect

Two mothers

Finding harmony

On a pavement

No spectre of an ending to suspect

We turned, upon a whistle

In the distance

Far removed from where we stood

But still

Alarm lay caught

In throats of conversation

While men rule the world

It maybe always will

We stand upon the pavement

Facing judgement

Possibilities

Our Gabbatha

Innocent or guilty

Makes no difference

When condemnation comes

To where we are