Which Pill?

It is with deep regret

And no small measure of embarrassment

That I stand before you, here, today

I’d really rather be all on my own

But the niceties, we know, must be obeyed

And so, with pressure, here, I must atone

 

It is with deep regret

And no small measure of rage

That I come before the people of this land

I’d really rather eat my own two shoes

But, the niceties, and colleagues’ daggers at my back

Have told me that I have to or they lose

 

So, it is with deep regret

And no small measure of humiliated self-defeat

That I work up something of a spit

I’d really rather gob right in your face

But, the niceties, and the plebs I swore to serve

Have hounded me and I have lost the race

 

It is with deep regret

And no small measure of choking pride

That I curse the day you found me out

I’d really rather you’d stayed in the dark

But the niceties, and a press that changed their tune

Have forced me to admit I’m not the brightest spark

 

So, it is with deep regret

And no small measure of unwillingness

I leave behind the steps of Downing Street

I’d really rather keep the role I played

But the niceties, and loyalty, are not what they once were

They’re calling me a pill, the hapless, hard-to-swallow Theresa May

 

It is with deep regret

And no small measure of wanton disregard

I’ve divided, more, the countries of this land

I’d really rather, that, you all forgot

But the niceties, for it is not self-awareness

Are insisting that I say that I’ve been caught

 

It is without regret

And no small measure of utter stupidity

That I’m holding on to power

I’d really rather you all just agreed

For the niceties, and careerists, can go hang

I retract, with no regrets, every word that I’ve just said

 

It is with deep regret

And no small measure of frustration

That we, the people, all must live the pill

We’d really like to dose it out to them

For the niceties and those who splurt the lies

Are culpable, and worse, they know no shame

(source)

(S)praying For The Country

Dear God,

Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?
I haven’t had so much excitement since I was a but a child and that big, burly farmer bellowed at me to, ‘Get the fuck out of my wheat field, ya wee bastard!’
Peed my pants that day, I can tell you. Gave a whole new meaning to crop spraying.

And that fellow was so out of order. It was, after all, a devil-may-care moment, shared, I’m sure, by all normal children from time to time.
Honestly, who hasn’t, in the flush of exuberant youth, cast off the yoke of obedience, thrown caution to the wind and trespassed on someone else’s property? I like to think of it as my ‘Buckfast in the park’ moment. Pissed, at least, in one sense of the word. Har, de, har, har!
Such japes.

I should, of course, have left those days behind for good and followed daddy’s advice. ‘Be a good girl.’
Such wise words.
He was quite the sage, you know. Well, you would know.
I learned so much from him.
Although he did have the unfortunate habit of speaking in cliches.
Ah, but he was so strong and stable.
And I did take his advice.
I was as good as good can be.
But, Jesus wept, (my bad), it was so boring.

People used to look at me like I was some sort of robot. Always doing as I was supposed to do. ‘Tess the Tame’, I once overheard someone whisper. Well that, and ‘Little Miss Pee-Your-Pants’.
Can’t trust anyone to keep a secret, I’ve found to my cost.

I suppose I just had to rebel at some point.
I’ve practised quietly for years.
Doing little things here and there, you know.
Never accept a court judgement.
Make stubbornness an art form.
Under no circumstances, give in. Except sometimes. Stamp a metaphorical foot in the recesses of your mind.
Curse them all. ‘Ya cunts, I’ll have you, one day!’
So liberating. In a mental, internalised, repressed sort of way.

And another wheat field day arrived.

How I longed to relive that glorious, carefree day. Without the final flood.

I felt sure, this time, that I would get away with it. I was sure I had the farmers and everyone else on side. I had practised speaking naturally till I had it almost off pat.

I had traipsed all over the country, talking to a few people in barns and the like. What is it with me with farms and isolation? Might need to work on that too.
I had even, as one does, practised, to the mirror, keeping my face composed at all times, so that no one, no, not even daddy, would know what I was thinking. All those, ‘fuck off ya trumpet’ thoughts were so well contained, apart from the odd twitch of my lips when I almost came right out and said it.
‘It’s my party now! I’m in charge! I’m head girl! Getyersel’ tae yer ain wheatfield!’
I had it all carefully organised.

And then I peed my pants again.

Thank god for Tena Lady.
I have shares in them, you know.
Always be prepared.

And now that corn-coloured, flop-haired saboteur is on his bike again, working up what passes for a sweat in the crack of his arse.
Waiting in the wings. Ready to steal my thunder. Undermining me at every turn. I don’t need his help for that. I can do things by myself. I have words. And stuff.

I’ve always been a loner, though.

Didn’t do naughty till that day, back then.
The shame of it haunts me still.

I’m not saying I’m going to flip. That would be so middle-class. And daddy wouldn’t have approved.

But, I swear to god, if I hear one mention of ‘pishing it’, I’ll sell my shares in Tena Lady and spray this country from Land’s End to John O’ Groats.

And, with the wind in the right direction, so, help me, Ireland will taste my piss.

I will be remembered as the biggest piss artist of all time.

Got to be remembered for something, after all.

Amen.

(source)

Pour With Pride

washes clean

refills

by drops

each puddle

overflows with effort

teems and soars

tracks its route

in streets

on pavements

pathways

arrives

at every tap

at every door

fills from mountains

hails from every cloudburst

spirit of survival

reigns supreme

power of the shower

pitter patters

splashing through

the nightmare

to the dream

washes clean

refills

the blood that’s thirsty

refreshes

where it reaches

countrywide

dance and sing

with thunder

raise your voices

in the storm

that’s brewing

blowing

pour with pride

Remember, To Carry The Flame

We marched for you back then

You don’t remember

Crusaders for a kingdom

How we strived

Destitute, determined

Carried with us

Hope, appeal, intention

To survive

 

We stood for you back then

You don’t remember

Faced down the tanks

Deployed in George’s Square

Heard the Riot Act

Dismissed, resisted

Gathered for a living

Far more fair

 

We starved for you back then

You don’t remember

Force-fed prison time

For worthy aims

All but now forgotten

As the years pass

No recollections

Still done in your names

 

We died for you back then

You don’t remember

Someone from your family

Now deceased

Their legacy, the freedoms

Fought and died for

Bequeathed to you

So future would know peace

 

We lived for you back then

You don’t remember

Parents of a past

Lost in years’ layers

Gone, their cause forgotten

Present children

Remember now

And ask if you still care

 

We worked for you back then

You don’t remember

Unborn you were

But we had you in sight

Fighting for the future

Of all children

And conditions we could live by

Workers’ rights

 

We fought for you those years

You don’t remember

Distance lends enchantment

Or dismay

Forgotten, now, we are

We were foot soldiers

Who thought that we had

Surely won the day

 

We fought for you back then

You don’t remember

Battled for a birthright

Better ways

Took a stand

We fought for bread and butter

For a piece of

All created

By our hands

 

We fought for you back then

You don’t remember

In daily labour

Justice all we sought

Manned the streets, the trenches 

Raised our voices

We fought for you back then

As parents ought

 

We fought for you back then

You don’t remember

Torches dropped

As mem’ries fade away

Hopes were high among us

Generations

Would benefit in living

Brighter days

 

We fought for you back then

You must remember

Gains we made

Eroding by the week

Fight for us

As once we fought your corner

Supporting those

Who work for what you seek

 

We fought for you back then

Oh, please remember

The battle scars we wore

To pave the way

Conditions that we railed against

Remember

Vote anyone

But not for Maggie‘s May

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

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.