“the Truth is…”

“The Truth is…”
oftentimes a catchy tag
and not so much what follows
as a hollow to contain its gap.

A shadow of things

God’s got a direct line
to Downing Street
by a covenant of equivocation
and hellfire in a field of wheat;
a billion sly indulgences that wryly speak
“out-toried”, sit inglorious upon the mercy seat.
A shadow of things to come.

 

Conservatives agree pact with DUP to support May government

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Magic Money Tree

Magic me a money tree
So I can eat its nimble fruit
A bonsai for my patio
Would be so cool and look so cute

I promise to be sensible
About the purposes it feeds
I won’t create an orchard
For a harvest of gratuities

I will not squander its supply
For quantitative daily ease
Nor let it grow unwieldy
Like a beanstalk or an eager weed

I’d spend it on posterity
For ethical prosperity
With vision, tangible and wise
I’d build a life that’s worth the price

Just send a little cutting
And I’ll nurture it with love
Let me feel the sunny uplands
Like the canopy above

 

 

 

What Britons want is anybody’s guess

What Britons want
is anybody’s guess.
Do not ask me, for
I am only one;
I did not seek this mess:
not for my gain
not in my name,
was Brexit’s pain begun.

I did not seek this source of stress
that stalks my country,
walks her backwards,
makes her people less
with less.

I did not seek a council of
emboldened third-rate jesters
nor the laissez-disconnect
from fact and intellect that festers;
sends attacks across
my patriotic bows and, even now,
undaunted by reality, does will
a march of muddled expectations.

No, nobody knows
what Britons want,
beyond humiliation
as a glaring guarantee
while glowing Pride
befalls a nation.

needs must

”The Poor”
How easily the classification slips
Through mind to lips, definitive,
Beyond regret and sorrow
Resignation
For ye have the poor with you always
Here endeth the lesson:
Today’s fact of life; tomorrow’s imperative
Yesterday was inevitable
And needs must when
Whole industries have been created to sustain
A spectator sport. Entry fee: hand-wringing
As the meek shall inherit
It was written

rise

Standing free until Time’s ending,
Sovereignty, in silence bides
In Hope, to see Humanity arise
And dark pretending die, displaced
By fealty to Love and Grace
And Wisdom held in Nature’s rhythms.
Latent leaven swell to hallow
Potent earthly spirits
In unlimited and conscious living Light.
Unlock the doors of higher purpose
And desire, consecrate;
Creation, purify and elevate.
So may our higher Will be done
And let our kingdom come.

Merry Solstice xXx 🌻

let the light pour through

Progress ~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Let there be many windows in your soul
That all the glory of the universe
May beautify it. Not the narrow pane
Of one poor creed can catch the radiant rays
That shine from countless sources. Tear away
The blinds of superstition; let the light
Pour through fair windows broad as truth itself
And high as God.

Why should the spirit peer
Through some priest-curtained orifice, and grope
Along dim corridors of doubt, when all
The splendour from unfathomed seas of space
Might bathe it with their golden waves of love?
Sweep up the debris of decaying faiths,
Sweep down the cobwebs of worn-out beliefs,
And throw your soul wide open to the light
Of reason and of knowledge. Tune your ear
To all the wordless music of the stars,
And to the voice of nature, and your heart
Shall turn to truth and goodness, as the plant
Turns to the sun. A thousand unseen hands
Reach down to help you from their peace-crowned heights,
And all the forces of the firmament
Shall fortify your strength. Be not afraid
To thrust aside half-truths and grasp the whole.

                                        *

Merry Solstice xXx 🌻

take hold

Love and despair
creep up, seep in
take hold
our days and nights
without end
save our souls
weep and serve
all witnesses
together making do
sharing mercies
and all manner of tears
marching on in the shortness of forever
hold the line hold your nerve
fix and mend
start again

How many times can the heart break?

Full Pelt

After the fiasco of goatskingate, I came across this and it struck me as a rather amusing reflection of Theresa May’s journey into leadership.

***

She means as she means
Ripping through time in kid gloves
Around her brass neck
The chains of state
Fashioning delicacies

crappy cake

Brexits want to eat their cake
And also keep it on the plate
Though no one knows what’s in it
Since it’s constantly half-baked
But they say they know the choice they made
Because they are awake
And insist we must unite
Behind a farce because of
One mad vote
On one mad day
Like it’s our happy, rightful fate

They moan they want their country back
Because they want control
But then extol the wilful ruin of the State
And they wail they want more sovereignty
But not the duty it creates
And cry for more democracy
Then shun the constant effort that it takes

Oh they really want that crappy cake
See them queuing with their plates
To feed a country they forsake
A diet of perverse and irreversible mistakes.