Ice Sculpture

It wasn’t the ice sculpture

nor the misinformation,

it was his contact disregard

for his position of power,

irresponsibility of a man,

who followed footprints he 

cannot fill,

by breaking the long lived

traditions of careful civility

and his bad behaviour

bringing him points and votes,

as we lower our setting standards 

for extreme

politics that destroy our

democratic life, for vile ways

that will divide us razing

Britain, raising a state

ruled by foreign felons

far away. 

Rule Britain

Sugar coated conundrums

cast out of royalties empty promises,

listing, the ship of fools sails

out into the misty metaphors

of a future fading into foreboding –


of a time where the happy smiles,

are those whose wiles have won 

them influences, that capitalise

their assets and bring ample riches.


Today would be dukes and duchesses,

lords and ladies bow to false news  and the lately

made promises of more, to make this

land, ‘Those who have shall be given

much, take more and the rest get it taken.”



I crawled along the corridor of life

carrying the cogent plans of the clever

whose want is to waken us instantly,

look at messages from every corner of 

the earth on themes

and memes and news and queues

of things they want us to know.


The weight wormed into my back 

and heart, bearing the dying and

of the tears of those working,

mining, suffering, bullied and lost

so that we can send a blooded email.


We’re booked and bound by

invisible threads in the air, 

violating lands so far away so that

we can play with our slave made stuff

and joke that we’re, oh, so woke.


Tantalum, platinum, palladium and niobium

lithium, indium, gallium and women’s bodies,

copper, gold, silver, tin, phosphorus, 

antimony, arsenic, kid’s childhoods, 

boron, men’s lives, manganese, 


silicon and poverty in thought

and act and deed bringing loneliness

and an aching loss for those times

when we spoke and not poke,

and made friends face to face.


It isn’t hard to prophesy doom and galloping

gloom from an easy chair or a prison cell,

when we delight in digging into trenches

of opinions and weigh in with bombs,

while profits are purloined and people

pushed to the precipices.


‘It will all end in tears,’ trivially trips 

off tongues, and falls on the deaf eardrums 

of determined individuals who want nothing 

more than to pretend their way is perfect.


Proper prophecy is of the light that breaks 

through dark clouds and sows the hatred and 

doubt with forgiveness and love. A light that 

illuminates the darkest hour with hope.


Luminosity that binds the broken hearted

and lifts the depressed in loving arms

stills the savagest breast while holding

the cherished child in an embrace of joy.


Joy at the little things, animals, butterflies

as well as the elephants, forests and oceans,

all things that only love can liberally flow and

live in them freeing and filling, so

that their loveliness grows and grows.

The law is a cruel ass

She lay still, unaware,

unable to say, “No!”

Unable to resist or scream,

captive to their cowardly act.

They took her fragile body,

and their foul bodies,

took her soul,

and shredded it,

violating her inner

Sanctum, and then,


She was battered again

in media and courts,

as they try to crush her,

their coercion costing her

justice and denying her worth

for when cruelly raped

her bestial attackers 

were found 








Desolation and Consolation

The syllables slipped out and fell

through the whispering realms,

making a gash in the side of hope

and wounding the heart of love.


It continued to wind its way past

whitened wintry fields of wisdom,

and flew innocent as thistledown

crushing the cry of community.


It held children in evil places,

laughed at the lament from women,

broke the backs of slaves and 

dealt out desolate despondency.


It whispered its name in the media

and grew in importance and power,

shoving the shepherdless before it

and hushing the reading of reason


It spake:


i am the way and my lies are truth

i offer to you an oppressive poverty,

if only you will give me your ear

and then  give me your vote.


The word echoed through the 

spreading universe, gliding

the flowing planets in

living light and rainbow hues.


It continued to gently touch

the rocky residues with rain

and gave life, amazing life,

abundant life, awesome life.


It whispered through the beauty, 

giving hope and sang through

the myriad choices of love,

sowing seeds awakening souls.


It became he and walked where

it was hard and stony and 

spoke, ‘I am because you are,”

holding them together in him.


An innocent word of life was

crucified, hung out to die, yet

the word broke from death, dancing

a harbinger of hope and love and light.