Poems
That Dark Maelstrom [new song lyrics]
Double-vacksed or triple-vacksed,
quadruple-vacksed or more —
they’ve got your body and your soul;
they’ve fooled you, that’s for sure.
If I were you, I wouldn’t brag
about that little prick.
Those companies that gave it you
just love to keep folks sick.
Married to All Nature [new sonnet]
Now, once there was a time on this strange earth
when women loved a man for his fine words —
a time when poets’ hearts were viewed as worth
as much as gold. But now they favour herds.
Another Tasteless Kitschmas
EACH YEAR, FOR MANY YEARS, I’ve added more verses to a carol I’m continuously writing, entitled “Another Tasteless Kitschmas”. This year, it has increased by 25% and now has 30 verses. (See below). This is the only Xmas card you’ll get from me! 
Although, on the surface, it looks somewhat tongue-in-cheek… on another level, it is deadly serious. I hope it brings you some seasonal thoughtfulness. Love to you from me. 
Recently I noticed something
happening in the streets:
A guy was on a ladder
using acrobatic feats.
I wondered if this was some kind
of urban culture craze.
But then I saw him hanging up
some Christmas light clichés.
Freedom Cannot Shine on Tarnished Gold
FREEDOM doesn’t write itself with airspray on a toilet wall;
for only through deep work and trouble
(living as we do in 3-D rubble) can it come at all.
If left to find its own sweet way, inevitably it will
end up lost, alone and subject to decay
(at unrecoverable cost — a price for which so many foolly pay).
The Trenches of Our Time (war poem for 11/11/21)
“Gas-masks on! Into the trenches, lads, spritely as you can”,
the Sergeant said, as a pungent yellow cloud then spread
across the desolate ruined landscape with indecent haste.
Into those stinking shovelled rancid rat-run holes we ran
and hurled ourselves without a second’s time to waste.
I saw men fall, their gargled gasps and cries. So many died.
If You Find Someone…
IF YOU FIND SOMEONE, be certain that not only is s/he “in your tribe” but also wholly “on your side”. Not slavishly subsumed with you but fervently aligned with all you think and do (and you with him/her too). S/he must be on your side (and you full on theirs too) so s/he will protect you from the sharp inevitable dross (detritus) which will come your way if you and s/he are warriors making waves and causing mayhem too. That’s what you both will do if you are truly counterculture folks who love to rock the boat of regimented mediocrity, ensuring that all lies and darkness do not stay afloat. From time to time, you both may disagree (on so much lesser things than those which are the key to your togetherness). But that will be for both of you a nice excuse for funsome play — for tickling one another’s armpits (that’s a metaphor, by the way), for none of you would ever want to stray far from the golden shores of love, or remove yourselves from mutually-drenchful showers originating streamly from ‘above’.
Read the rest of this entry »False Worship or A Mirror’s Tacky Dreams
How easily we make a fleshly idol out of people,
or imaginary objects, things, and even of ourselves.
Virtually worshipping a mirror’s tacky dreams
or anything which into bogus ‘godhood’ streams.
Our lifestyles, hairstyles, beards and faces too
all lined up for worship as our love of selfness grew.
“Just Leave Me Alone” (new poem)
As I minded my business in a world of my own
(I was making some notes in a park all alone
for a piece about Truth). There I was ‘in the zone’,
when some humans approached me and said,
“Oi! You! Go home!” But I was lost in my words
and my world and I did not look at them as I had
not heard. So a death-look at me they did hurl.
O to Be in the Company Of… [prose poem]
O TO BE IN THE COMPANY of those who raise the roof with need-to-be-free ascendancy, and thus would never in a million years be distant or aloof, and only ever have an interest in the truth, and show no signs of pathological dependency on people, idols, cities, gods or dress-codes, always take the high roads, don’t have any desiccated views, never do a take-you-out reprisal fratricidal hide-behind-a-phony-smile impugnment (for such chosen company will only ever want a be-with-you intunement), never any blind choleric madness moments turning into years of professional opponency where you cannot even see you’ve not only been stripped of your integrity but all you are for now is lines of snorted co-dependency.
Read the rest of this entry »A Posy of Epiphanies
i am nothing
i am no one —
just a walk-on part
in other people’s dreams
i am flotsam
i am jetsam —
just a late intruder
in a plethora of schemes
i never made
The Naked Troubadour 