Loonies

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Loonies

The moment I hear the word ‘privilege’,
I re-tune my mental dial –
And ‘problematic’ sends me to sleep,
And ‘gaslight’ sets me up for bile.
But the word which most puts me on edge
Is ‘woke’, by a country mile –
It isn’t that devastating or deep,
And more a case of a trendy style.

It sorrows me when my own damn side
Pontificate like they’re seventeen.
For once, can we all take a few long breaths
Before we vent our righteous spleen ?
Myself included – I take no pride
In admitting to what an arsehole I’ve been.
We’re meant to be nice guys, we on the left –
A republicker shouldn’t be a stroppy queen !

Kithdred

New Kids in the Neighbourhood by Norman Rockwell

Kithdred

We look out for our own,
But our own can be more than our genes.
Our neighbours are fam’ly of a diff’rent bone,
While strangers and enemies and inbetweens
Are no less important a-cornerstone
As noisy, teeming teens.
To make it a good home takes all of you,
For blood is thinner than glue.

Gate-Keepers & Fate-Reapers

The Doors of Obernetwyn by Donato Giancola

Gate-Keepers & Fate-Reapers

Time was, when a budding poet
Only needed to send a sample in
To a magazine or publisher,
For them to recognise their kin –
A fellow wordsmith, to be lauded,
Calliope’s very twin !

I guess their sheer class shone through –
By which I mean their bourgeoisie.
For had a working-lad likewise,
There’s be no welcome-mat for he.
These days, of course, they snub us all the same –
Well, that’s equality…

Let Our Freak Flags Fly

Let Our Freak Flags Fly

These days, ev’ryone has their flag,
Their brand, their team –
I see them as their colours stream upon the breeze.
I don’t know what they mean,
Not any of these –
But they sure look grand !
These layer-cakes in purple, pink, and green
To folks in far-off lands
That will never be reached by me first-hand,
But it’s good to know they’re there,
That they still get seen.
And those who fall-out inbetween,
The citizens of elsewhere,
Who are ev’ry bit as keen to share –
Not part of this, nor part of that,
Yet part of where our culture’s at –
They’re hesitant to wear the stripes we’ve flown,
Or sport our crest –
Well, there’s always room within the nest
For strangers with another face –
They get to make a banner of their own,
To fly with all the rest.
Eventu’ly, I’ll see it grace
A new lapel or wedding dress –
Another flag I cannot place,
But somebody salutes, I guess.
Well, good for them – what’s one more more-or-less ?

Note that St George’s Cross should not be left out of the fun.

Death by Plot Device

Prey with a Gun by Tithi Luadthong

Death by Plot Device

From Juliet to Cio-Cio-San,
By way of Emma Bovary –
They each were halted by a man
Who plots and spins their tragedy,
By ending them with his fatal pen –
All killed by their creator yet agen.

For Emmalene, no silver screen.
For Hannah Baker, life is shorter.
Ophelia is free to dream
With Bess, the landlord’s black-eyed daughter.
Giving up all they had to give,
Thus they must die so that a man may live.

Come Brünnhilde of the Norse,
Jocasta of the Greeks, come too,
And Thelma and Louise, of course –
Cecilia Lisbon’s joining you.
So young and clichéd, full of romance –
Farewell.  Alas, you never had a chance.

For Anna Karenina and Hedda Gabler,
It will never be a wonderful life –
Each felt a fatalism grab her,
With a well-placed gun or foreshadowed knife.
Like all of the tragic women above
In their man-made sacrifices all for love.