Merry May

Merry May
the rays ignite
a higher, wiser, inner sight
and fire in the belly
quicken, now, our power
raise the Just in common might

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Christmas is coming

Christmas is coming, the golden geese are splat
Please to spare a thought for the last fat cats;
If you haven’t got the message, the medium is you,
If you haven’t got the medium then God bless you!

Christmas is coming, the golden geese are tat
Another year the government took care of that;
If you haven’t got a nest egg, your servitude will do,
If you haven’t got a pot to piss in, God help you!

Christmas is coming, the golden geese are crap
Please to spend a penny in The Man’s old hat;
If you haven’t got a sprinkling, a tinkle in will do,
If you haven’t got an inkling, well: then God bless poo!

Hubris heaving

While complacency
And acquiescence
Grew and came to rest
For an age
Did people drift,
Unwitting;
Trade their lives
That Golem blessed the Carrion
With precious jewels
To fill their vaulted, gifted nest.

Filled to overbrimming

Stirred emotion,
Swimming,
Swirling
Mind to motion,
Makes beginning;
Wakes to shade
And, quickening, now,
Quickens, quickens
Weight from wait –
The Golden Bough
Of Hubris, heaving, breaks.

‘Britain-hating ideology’

“We cannot let that man inflict his security-threatening, terrorist-sympathising, Britain-hating ideology on the country we love,” the PM said.

Spite
And puffed-up might
This ‘Greater Britain’
Of the Right
Effusing hubris
And insufferable delight

What kind of man is this
Whose leadership
Insists;
Persists in slanderous cries
That Corbyn is some
‘Terrorist-sympathising’
‘Security-threatening’
Traitor?

Please, later,
It shall come to pass
That the real culprit of
‘Britain-hating ideology’
Be kicked out on its own
Unpatriotic, pampered arse.

For the Love of It

God is pressure;
Life is movement;
Will, attunement,
Conscience measured.

Light, its friction,
Shadow sifting,
Soul uplifting,
Love, its treasure.

Bring it.

Right wing clinging
But the Left wing is singing,
Rising up from the edges,
Marching in on the terraces;
A coiled spring’s innings
Twinning up on the bluff:
Oh, come and have a go
if you think you’re hard enough!