the Day of the Woman

Extract from ‘A Prophecy of the Kingdom of the Soul, mystically called the Day of the Woman’

And now I show you a mystery…

The word which shall come to save the world shall be uttered by a woman.

So that women shall no more lament for their womanhood
but men shall rather say: “O that we had been born women!”

There shall nothing new be told
but that which is ancient shall be interpreted.

Hers is the light of the heavens
and the brightest of the planets of the holy seven.

She is the fourth dimension;
the eyes which enlighten;
the power which draweth inward to God.

And she who is alone
shall bring forth more children to God
than she who hath a husband.

And her kingdom cometh; the day of the exaltation of woman.
There shall be no more reproach…

All things are thine, O Mother of God
All things are thine, O Thou who risest from the sea.
And Thou shalt have dominion over all the worlds.

 

Anna (Bonus) Kingsford, Clothed with the Sun

Boris, IDS and Gove

Behold the bellicose outflow
Of phisher wisp politicos

Boris, IDS and Gove
Gish and Guess and Adipose
With grandiose portfolios
Tomorrow’s whiff, today compose

Rebranders of the status quo
Twisting in their pantyhose
[More prick than patriotic rose]
Insisting what they must suppose
In polyphonic piffled prose
To show how much they cannot know

Project Fact

True depiction
Project Fact
Strange as fiction
– fancy that

So clear it all but disappears
Between the banks of
Hope and Fear

It tacks to mete
Each windbag’s cheer:
We should
They would
They might
We could
In moody modals
Understood

Poor Iain Duncan Smith

Oh, Iain Duncan Smith,
Poor you,
Being bullied by “spin, smears and threats”
Aw, boo hoo

Distressed by gratuitous scaremongering, are we?
Pressed your sensitive button, have they?

Feeling threatened by the consequences of
Making “desperate and unsubstantiated” claims?
Has your penchant for the “biblical” been usurped?
Ha! Do you see now, how the irony works?

Oh, diddums
Why so weak?
Can’t you cope?
Stiffen those sinews: where there’s Life, there’s hope,
Remember?
Try harder. Pull yourself together, man.
More smiling; less shuffling
More effort, please.

Do you need a hand up? Try one of those
“Series of highly questionable dossiers”
You cling to. They’re the new hand out,
Available at all recommended public service outlets

A team of scapegoat therapists will draw you up a plan
Happy to strip you of any reasonable doubt;
Coach you, what you must and can
And medicate you meek, messiah man.

Vote Clump

Vote Clump.
In the room with the stuffed elephant,
Pin the tail on the wonky donkey.

Vote Clinton
Vote Trump

Free lunch and free passes
To narcissist arses
Her claim
His catharsis

Both lead to disaster
Just same pace or faster

World brace as the States
Choose which end of the clump
Will deliver their Rapture
And capture the sucker punch.