Children matter more than guns.

The once kissed face unrecognisably their chlld,

tiny hands, they touched, covered in drying blood,

their little lungs filled with blood, their future stolen

and their once loving hearts, overwhelmed died, 

sacrificed at the altar of the  ‘Right To Bear Arms.’


Mothers broken by the news weep inconsolably,

fathers fury chokes the tears back in their throats,

Grandparents shocked and stunned cry, brothers

and sisters seek comfort from frozen parents; all

sacrificed on the altar of the ‘Right To Bear Arms.’


Police mumble apologies to the stink of cordite,

counsellors offer their capable services for free,

while hastily assembled candle lit vigils haunt us,

with the souls of the carnage, of yet another school

sacrificed on the altar of the ‘Right To Bear Arms.’


Fear lives inside each school as children are drilled,

parents, in terror wait for their weapon driven call,

and children are taught that the student body count,

increasing each week is worth the terrible sacrifice  

on that altar, where they will  be burned while bound 

by the 




The Partygate Dance

He danced for the scribes and the hypocrites,

He danced for a tune taught by the oil rich,

he danced for the women and danced for lust,

he danced for the wealthy and danced for glee.


He danced against the laws and the protocols,

he danced against the poor and the vulnerable,

He danced for his mates and danced for cash,

He danced through criticism, danced laughing.


He danced against the police and danced for joy

as he danced from the fines and danced off free.

He danced in his dalliances, danced like a fool,

He dances and folk died, danced on their grave.


He dances to a tinny tune that we cannot hear,

He dances and flings reports to an eightsome reel,

He dances and exhausts the critics and critical,

and if justice is met he’ll be arrested, and then





A voice in the Wilderness of War

One tiny bird, atop the blasted tree,

fluffed its downy golden breast,

opened its shining beak and sang 

a new song, from

its heart, over the dying.


Oppression, violence, vice, violation

of my land, killed chirruping chicks,

blasted my family while I flew afar.

These are my lyrics,

breaking me as they died.


They came in filthy smoking tanks,

despoiling, destroying, draining

the joy that lived here and cherished

every gift from God,

now ground from life to death.


I sing over the bodies of children,

their future ripped from their hands

by cowardly men dressed as heroes.

Their souls gone, can never be replaced

their hearts gone for aye.


Fluttering down to the ruined earth,

he saw that hope had been annihilated,

each ruinous act of hate deactivated

the spark of life

generated in love.


Still he opened his throstle, and chanted

his prayer, that despair will die and each

root of hopefulness will bring grace

and the shattered land

shelter life again. 

Earth 2 or 3?

The gleaming metal shone in the sun as it plummeted towards the planet’s verdant surface,

splashing into the bluest of blue seas, it bobbed quietly, rising and falling with the waves.

A gap appears near the top and emerging from the darkness into the light came figures,

each stood shaking on wobbly legs fell into a flimsy inflatable dinghy thrust into the water.


The motor throbbed into life and seeking land flew through the soaking water easily until,

riding up a golden beach the engine silenced the humans within sat enchanted, entranced 

by the myriad birds, their songs and the babble of animals calling from the nearby jungle.

Faces hidden behind helmets. Mouths wide in shock. It’s the wrong place, they whispered.


None of them expected the lush, luxuriant growth, only a desert and a plastic filled sea,

for long ago some came and found the inhospitable climate, deserts and poisoned air.

Turning the faces to the green or the blue their eyes lit up with the abundance of food

for furry creatures as well as birds and at last they breathed in the pure, fresh air.


One of them started to send the message that the earth was pristine, a place for people,

then stopped and propping his device his knee, pondered, paused and then panicked.

Humans will again be bringing their pollution and practices and plunder the resources 

til plastic mounts, privilege outweighs sense and the populace dies from overheating.


A woman, thoughtful and brilliant in her comprehension of the peril for this paradise.

reached down and picking up the receiver, smashed it with a rock, took her own tech

and solemnly, slowly the others saw her point and looking hard at the joyous bounty

nodded,  joined her and then they walked into the depths of the jungle and courageously

let nature 




Cancerous Greed.

He held tightly to the statement of his wealth

groaning as he saw the fulsome figures falling,

wondering how he’d keep his balding head up 

as he flounders int he dust of only multi-millions.


She held tightly to the small wad of new notes,

freshly received from the ATM and felt thrilled 

to have earned so much money, enough for rent,

food, that school trip and perhaps for electricity.


He hungrily looked in the window, watched them

serving meals  on clean plates, smelling the eggs,

bacon and feeling in his pocket the cold hard

edges of coins, too small, too few, for their food.


She cast a glance up to heaven, grateful to find 

cheap meat, beyond its date, good enough for

her thinning children to be able to eat tonight,

taking a bag of sprouting potatoes, she’ll eat too.


She calls out for her Gucci bags and perfume,

her Gabanna dress hung in silk folds over her 

perfectly surgically sculptured slim body, no

not worrying about money, the servants do it all.


A mother collects goat droppings as gold,

and sets them before her starving children,

others cook leaves, stripping the trees to

stay another day of death stalking their lives.


Billions it cost and all just to own the bird

that talks of matters best left unsaid, there

instead of giving the poor a chance, he’s 

egged on to feed the greed within himself.


He works in government and knows only

the hard working wealthy folk around him,

cannot imagine eating bad food, searching

hotel waste and never having their choices.


A cancer is working through the weary world,

causing lasting pain, loss, hatred and fear,

teaching a few how to take more and more of

their unfair share and hide the starving in



War on Refugees

Huddling close for warmth they gripped each other’s hands,

the ragged clothes hardly covering their shrunken flesh,

their sore covered faces closed eyes that had lost their light,

no one would come but those displaced, empty handed,

starving families, children like theirs dying slowly into

the corrupt earth.


Governments rage against refugees, refusing to grant

them a chance to be free and a shaft of hope of life.

They go to their worship where they hear of a God

who cares about humans and the ravaged planet,

and turn blind backs on the horror of displacement

and dine richly.


Charities working give them hope in clothes and food,

but no-one can help them while terrible traffickers 

take their coins for frightening travel, cons and lies,

promising heaven and giving them hell, while those 

who could stand for justice and mercy choose hatred

punish the innocent.

Now politicians think up wicked schemes and plot

to send them to countries violating human rights,

spending our money to perpetrate crimes against

humanity, binding them in chains and sending them

away to suffer more, be killed and so Pilate Patel

washes her hands.

The Early Purple Orchid

A robin puffed its red breast

and sang for the joy of the day, while

down below a glorious sight.


It stood tall, admiring the view,

sparkling waters and sun caressed



Its flowers opening to the ever-present bees,

and deep in the earth the bulb, which died

to give it birth is renewed.

Slender stemmed it sways in the breeze,

cheered by the sight of the many more

cerise orchid blooms.


Pyramids of  beauteous petals,

shine amidst fading violets and growing grass,

watched over by a song in the golden gorse.