contortionist

The alpha child
with street-wise bleats
like a teen got squeezed
in a nine-year-old’s seams
weaned onesie to romper
me me me me
groupthink, resonate
tub-thump
Brexit, Corbyn, Trump
click
bait, reverberate
better you believe it, mate
twist, stick
narrow shtick
make it fit, contortionists
what are you on about, now?
No: she didn’t say “cat”
how did you manage that shape
when everybody else heard “cow”?
Oh wow! I didn’t know
you’re allergic to their milk since
your great-great-uncle got trampled
when he scrumped some farmer’s apples
for the poor
and he still fought in The War.

Which party?

Brexit aside, which party is more malleable: a party led by a seemingly unassailable yesteryear ideologue or a party caught out and haunted by the overt flaws in its libertarian mindset? Which is more palatable: a party that seeks social justice by means of a chippy levelling down or a party that is so admonished and exposed that it may yet have social justice thrust upon it by sheer necessity and command?

One party merely seeks to scapegoat different demographics; the other is seeing its scapegoats bite back. One is on the upturn of the wheel of self-righteousness; the other is coming down. Which is likely to be the most adaptive: the one coming up on hubris and rose-tinted zeal or the one that is increasingly pulled down by its rich certainties and chastened by the consequences of its overreach?

Now add Brexit. Which party accepts that Brexit is, irrespective of current official positions, the priority that will determine the viability of the whole United Kingdom and the well-being of every individual on these isles? Which party is most likely to listen and learn and accommodate realities and new information? Which party’s approach might be more readily altered by sensible persuasion? Which party seems more sensitive to the scrutiny and pressure of the wider public and the Media? Which party looks as though it can be more easily called out and reined in by its own?

What a horrible state of affairs.

Austerity is

Austerity is
Not just a long-term economic plan
But a ritual state of mind

A thin-lipped severity
My way the highway
And Protestant hot

Rites shot right through
With a missionary zeal
The taint of antiquated glue

*~*

Dinosaurs need for the Earth to be flat
Lest a curve or a slope puts them onto their backs
So their lumbering carcasses bury their heads
Which is why they don’t know they are already dead

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

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

 

 

 

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

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.

queen of cracks

Raise an eyebrow
Ask an obvious question
Lean in slightly and she folds
Susceptive of suggestion

May be told
When moths of right and left
Expose her warp; her weft
Undone
More holes in her control
Than summed in any round
An orange golfer says he’s won

And the sterner she becomes
The more the brittle can be seen
She is the queen of cracks
And bending back and all her
Narcissistic hacks will shit a cat
When European Power tells her
What she can and cannot “mean”

So if this vexed election
Doesn’t lead to her collapse
You can bet your bottom fiat that
The EU and her Bulldog Blighty Brexit
Is the straw that makes her snap.

Nuance of a hinge

Muse:
The hallowed husk
Of platitudes
The crucible
Of old disquieting views

Political androids
Source of Good News
Pop-ups
Say one; mean two
Speak
Easy nothing

She is emptiness
A husk of blue
Playing truthiness
He is too full of know-it red
A work of doubt
In progress

Choose your equivocating quicksand:
Badly programmed robot
Human hologram