They grow roots like dandelions deep into the earth,

Each one told becomes a future and a past 

rooted in the soil of illusion, confusion and only dies

when the truth is finally realised, revisited and seized

by someone who hears the sleazy, forked tongue.

Lie detectors fail as the liar knows that a lie is true

and believe that in their twisted thinking. And trust

their friends go back them up in fiddling with facts,

and relay them back as reality while crediting their

own duplicity as being a search for integrity.


Their culpability is clear to those who dig the details

and futility to stand against such sin, soiled thinking,

and the roots are pulled, but leave behind a shred

and falsehoods perpetuated, like dandelion rise

and vulnerable people believe these barefaced lies.


Like the dandelion clock their creative truth dissipates

tethered lightly to their conscience.

And shed it bothers them no more.

But haunts the innocent.

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