Windmills
Ev’rytime I see their ugly,
Stark-white Jack-less beanpoles, mile-on-mile,
Then I smile.
These lopsided, drunken wheels,
Mercedes-wannabes, without the style,
Makes me smile.
Scarring hilltops, nailing fens,
A cage encircling round this sceptred isle –
Worth a smile.
But ev’ry time I see a manor house
With Tudor chimney-pots a-smoke,
Makes me choke.
Jubilee
Yours are the breaks
And ev’ry advantage,
The lowest of stakes
For the richest rewards.
Handed the world,
As you took it for granted:
Benighted and Earled
As miladies and lords.
It’s sad but it’s true
That we’ve little democracy,
You’re all that we’ve got
To break your own power.
We’re looking to you,
The old aristocracy:
Excise the rot,
And descend from your tower.
For better or worse, you are,
Blessing and curse, you are,
Dated, perverse,
When ennobled and crowned.
But leave it behind, will you
Open your mind, will you,
Maybe combined,
We can reach common ground.
Surely it’s common sense ?
History teaches us
Not be the leeches,
Or sponges or midges.
Give up your influence !
Give up your privilege !
Let’s not mend fences –
Instead, let’s build bridges.
Don’t be a traitor
Betraying your nation,
For we are your nation:
Each pilot and waiter.
So be a creator
Who levels the score,
To make Britain greater
Than ever before.
For better or worse, come on,
Balance your purse, come on,
Then reimburse
For each corgi and glove.
Pay back your debt, my friends,
Pay back in sweat, my friends –
This is no threat,
But a chance to show love.
Break with your ranks,
And roll up your sleeves,
Where ev’ryone cranks,
And ev’ryone heaves,
Where ev’ryone plays,
And ev’ryone learns,
As ev’ryone pays,
And ev’ryone earns.
Come quarrying stones,
Or burying bones,
Or manning the phone-lines,
Or polishing brass.
Come digging the spuds,
Or squeeging the suds,
Regardless of bloodlines,
Regardless of class.|
For better and worse, we are,
Plumber and nurse, we are,
Truly diverse,
And yet wholly alike.
Won’t you engage with us,
Sharing your stage with us ?
Open our cage,
And then turn up the mic.
For richer or poorer,
In grandeur and squalor,
In blue and white collar,
Let’s see the day won.
Whatever the weather,
In ev’ry endeavour:
Let’s shoulder together
To get the job done.
Royal Peculiar
Open our swimming pools, open our shopping malls,
Hold no opinion and smile at the crowd.
That’s what you’re paid for, so you can’t complain;
Walking and waving, that’s all you’re allowed.
We care what you think, just never express it;
Never forget that your shame ain’t our prob.
The good and the bad and the downright carbuncle,
Open them gladly or get a new job.
Heaven & Earth
There is wonderment more in the Kingdom of Heaven
Than all of the glories on all of the Earth –
The colours are brighter, the music is sweeter,
Forever and perfect and never in dearth.
There is beauty and love in the Kingdom of Heaven
Far greater than ever we know on this Earth –
But strange how the holy are nervous to claim it,
And dawdle below to delay their next berth.
There is marvel enough in the Kingdom of Heaven
To fill up a thousandfold worlds with its mirth –
Or so it is promised, and why should we doubt it,
Inspite how we cling to all life all it’s worth.
But I can wait long for the Kingdom of Heaven
To sup on this world from its poles to its girth.
There may be a paradise waiting in Heaven,
There’s surely a paradise thriving on Earth.
One, Two, Bakerloo
Have you met Miss Jones ?
She’s a jet-blond, beige-eyed,
Sugar-gliding rising-tide –
Mapping out her zones
On the side.
She’s sharp-blinking, slow-drinking,
Silver, gold, and copper-zincing.
Marrow in her bones –
Miss Jones.
She knows her diphthongs from her phones,
She knows her murmurs from her moans,
She knows her rods and cones,
Does Jones.
She’s a spark-plug head-drug,
Neither-one-nor-other shrug –
Calling in her loans
For a hug.
She’s self-mocking, breath-shocking,
Braces, belt, and double-locking –
Tuning-up the drones…
So Jones !
How best to describe her ?
You must just go out and learn –
Best not to entribe her,
But to vibe her and imbibe her –
You’ll know her when you jibe her,
Come your turn.
Have you met Miss Jones ?
She’s a one-take earthquake,
Dreamy girl who’s wide awake
Raisoning her scones
On the make.
She’s sharp-booking, slow-cooking,
Never where the rest are looking –
Ev’ryone condones
Miss Jones.
She knows her supines from her prones,
She knows her growlings from her groans,
She knows her Wrens and Soanes,
Does Jones.
She’s a snake-hiss l’il sis,
Turning blisters into bliss,
Trading all she owns
For a kiss.
She’s sharp-rooting, slow-booting,
Always with her head computing –
Wits is what she hones…
So Jones !
How best to convey her ?
You must just go out and learn –
Best not to survey her,
But purvey her and array her –
You’ll know her when you play her,
Come your turn.
Have you met Miss Jones ?
She’s an odd-socks re-tox,
Big ring in a little box –
Sorting out the stones
From the rocks.
She’s sharp-sighing, slow crying,
Only-from-the-south applying –
Nobody postpones
Miss Jones.
She knows her witches from her crones,
She knows her yuppies from her Sloanes,
She knows her unbeknowns,
Does Jones.
She’s a tactile last-mile,
Drifting in and out of style –
She’s giving up her thrones
For a smile.
She’s sharp-nailing, slow-sailing,
Always with the wind prevailing –
Supercoiling clones…
So Jones !
How best to assess her ?
You must just go out and learn –
Best not second-bless her,
Or your guess’ll be the lesser –
You’ll know how to address her,
Come your turn.
Uncle Charlie, How I Envy You
To never have a camera shoved in your face
With accompanied orders to smile and pose,
With not a thought for those who lack the grace
Or the confidence to happily expose
Their gawkiness to this all-stealing eye
That no-one but no-one has the right to deny.
And so there persisted those who thought
That privacy must be trumped with the utmost ubiquity.
How dare their prey not be such a sport,
As yet another click strips yet another shred of their dignity.
I am surely so much more
Than this awkward lump you proudly snared
As you barged upon me, you shutterbugging boor,
Who ignored my gentle requests to be spared.
I am surely so much else
Than this pasty red-eyed frozen mess,
Too self-conscious, both elephant and mouse,
Who wishes to be looked upon altogether less.
And there used to be those who would claim
That every photo would thieve a sliver of their soul –
And although the sceptic inside cries shame,
A little piece within me is always left feeling less whole.
Uncle Charlie boasted that he had never had his photo taken – I guess he never noticed the film crew following him around.
The Hand Not Bitten
Is any insect brave enough
To pollinate the venus-flower,
Tempted never by the lure
Of nectar, rich upon the leaves ?
Is any insect sure enough
To find that small white-petalled tower
Standing tall above those mauls
That punish tardy, wayward thieves ?
Is any insect smart enough
To find the pollen in the bower,
And to fly away again
And not be caged within those sheathes ?
Tempus Fudge-It
I held my time within my hands,
And tightly cupped its precious sands,
But held it open to the skies:
Alas, when time can’t flow, it flies.
Arachubiquita
Look ! Spiders ev’rywhere !
Scuttling over ceilings,
Hanging from their danglings,
Watching from the walls.
Webbing here, webbing there,
Going ’bout their dealings,
Lurking legs-a-gangling
Or rolled up into balls.
Let them be, don’t let them scare.
Spiders, spiders ev’rywhere !
To the Future British Republic
A republic will not magic’ly make ev’rything benign,
Or even-out the wealth,
Or make your children genii, or cause the sun to shine,
All by itself.
It cannot bring you justice, set you free, or stop a war,
Just because it lacks an heir –
It cannot make its citizens all love their nation more
Just by being there.
But what it can achieve is just to give a little heart
For you all, not just the few,
And lift your heads a little as it gives an even start –
The rest is up to you.
Rhyming Couplets 