Tuesday, 1 January 2019

Sunday morning rants

shots at karaoke


search for tropes like ships that cross the lines

loaded with assorted porcupines

or the night you wrestled crocodiles’

tears for wiles


raped by Angel Gabriel might do

too much meat about already though

rocket man says planet earth is blue

he’s gotta go


intertexting did the rounds in France

Rimbaud’s arse was duly covered there

underneath sophistication bare

Grecian urn dance


fake I-D’s the real alternative

who is you on social media

wash tattoos & don’t put what ya live

4’s easier


playing ghost to Lady Gaga’s host

beats instagramming poems by post

kindly way of saying get your cost

down or get lost

 


Sunday morning rant


worlds impossible as double oh

seven's where destruction plus the death

toll suspended by their tales disguise

painful truths about the place we know

horror ain't so bad don't hold your breath

fifteen minutes later comes a prize

adverts cups of char words to the wise

notwithstanding trips on crystal meth

few of us will ever get to know

courage strong enough to have a go

seldom since the age of Good Queen Beth

has the role of fiction been but lies

told to make us hate the other side

trouble is reversing Planet Earth

backs the clock into binary mode

life ticks by for us as doing time

sleep till six or ten we rise & shine

do our jobs return disposed resigned

argue only if & when some damn

fool has blocked our driveway with his van

then there might be fisticuffs or hand

him stroke her why not a weighty tome

full of rules to make them feel alone

ignorant of leafy suburbs coned

dunce & cornered learned their lesson from

us for this is how we deal with John

Nik or Lesley whatsyourname I'm Bond

James to none but some pneumatic dame

this my Aston Martin gaze in vain

ours an empire that has never waned

that's impossible you cry so then

war has done the rounds & London town

left in smoky ribs of rubble lives

on if underground we barbie cats

fat or not whatever Possum says

diamond dogs with rodents as dessert

kids we swop for rags at bring & buy

auctions clubs of vigilantees cops

murderers & thieves go dig their turfs

oldies who had sooner died insane

scoff their hoarded meat & veg from tins

slit the throats of anyone who calls

seen it all before you say so what

when imagination grabs your balls

why deny it fiction's got the lot

ain't no way escaping from the plot

stuff your rucksack with begotten loot

take the submarine or use your feet

face it sister only route is out

side reality you cosmonaut

crashing through the interstellar gate

landing back on Earth one Friday night

speak the lingo drink enough to float

past your pals & pull in Pizza Hut

make your own movie & star in it

matters not how old you are or fat

everyone looks sexy on the set

line your pockets is the only point

find a puppet damson-eyed & pert

take their arm & strut your stuffy part

tell you what to let us off the hook

take it back to when we read the book

movies never did do justice look

twice at Tinker Bell & see the joins

left by Pan who squandered sacks of pains

pulling wings off angels for their pins

read between the lies & truth will out

Wendy should have sewn her eyelids shut

now the boot is in get off my foot

only thing they ever wrote is true

nothing stinks like sniffing contact glue

rots your brain you'd better try a screw

fairy tales on wing├Ęd chariots

spears of bronze that glint with seven watts

nuff to read by days off sipping shots

 


all washed up


cheated in a foreign restaurant

charged for sitting at a table not

all that drunk the hours passed away

45 years


what's it mean to take a breather now

me no lingo Officer a Brit

diggit I suggest we compromise

45 years


don't believe it seems like yesterday

cycled half the way still got the clips

bread & cheese the wine was cheap my youth

45 years


you'll remember me I took a shine

Marie France a holiday romance

said we'd never last & true enough

45 years


pocketful of change is all no cards

tell you what just let me get my breath

do the dishes if there's any left

45 years
 

Saturday, 1 December 2018

Pardon my French

Double or quits, Baroness?


I

fairytale ending

if Cock Robin's murderers had been
caught on CCTV flying in
all the king's birds would straight have fallen
green bottle men

nature's laws set out in nursery rhymes
concrete columns sprouting through the trees
these are the good things & those the crimes
but human beings

cast as pirates of the Caribbean
sneaking past a pilot episode
series two has gotta be their goal
bury them bones

cargoed by the diplomatic load
or the Netflix plot to rival all
Carry On dissolved in acid then
poured down a man

hole & who knows what's the truth old bean
witchcraft superheroes hands of gods
fiction trumps the facts with notes in wads
battles unseen


II

wildlife obituary

Sidney Centipede the greatest thing
ever walked on fifty pairs of legs
died today aged a hundred & ten

days thirteen hours twenty-two mins
life for Sid was vicious crap & not
nice the privvy spawned his awesome rise

treading down the dreams of lesser beasts
where the dung was rich & fragrant piled
high with yellow leaves & rotting fruit

Sid had made it just in time to meet
Brenda Blackbird passing on her way
back from harvest for winter was nigh

get it while it's hot she chortled one
juicy bug to sweeten all that grain
how delicious then burped & flew off


III

stalking horns

modernism raise your upstart glass
as the scherzo of Beethoven’s third
symphony gets horny live on air
for the first time

sure enough a lot of lies damned lies
plus statistics are spouted but don't
take ‘em snorting like a dose of salts
broadcasting’s fine

libatious wine indubitably
kills the bugs immunity has missed
radio's long enthused those on &
off the wagon

but in case you haven’t heard it’s fun
getting raucus last night of The Proms
something sober folk are missing out
on’s the sublime

treachery some teetotallers make
as abusers they may play with us
but as posers their use is abuse
for old lang's sake


IV

avoir du poids

cos the kilo's finally to go
Bonaparte will wet his Paris vaults
revolutionary thoughts aside

all this fuss about a ball inside
goldfish bowls & mimicked to a fault
leave its density alone for no

matter if an orb be perfect why
wasn't Greenwich chosen eh the salts
used to polish it whatever show

accuracy's limits ebb & flow
rocket science isn't gonna halt
entropy a universe defines

when its time has come to shrink or grow
eggheads leave the kilo be the alt
give up playing god change minds instead


V

rien ne vas plus

gotta see the goodness evil does
jobs for one & money don't forget
power such a dangerous world gee-whiz

who are we to question why they dis
human rights when half these countries let
terrorist & gangsters run their fuzz

lazy fare is what I say take Miss
World it's open season cannot vet
chicks by national politics the buzz

words are tits & benefits because
looks alone don't make a Penthouse Pet
hell I know it's murder but that's biz

feel their purses not their pussies is
all Cashoggie had it jammy was
what I heard just made a lousy bet

Archie Locost attrib

Sunday, 11 November 2018

1918 Special


I

Krishna Pandit engineer by trade
worked his way to England bound for France
talent spotted from the ranks was made
driver of tanks

Whippet Quick his rusty chariot
twenty tonnes of steel plus men & guns
half a league about a cigarette
scattering Huns

not that Krishna glorified the work
mountain station air had cooled his veins
steady handed fed on beans & pork
kit-bagged his shame

furthermore the Indian was wise
owl-eyed a sage beyond his years
fellows loved him to extemporise
cocking their ears

bettered English letters by his talk
love thy foes he'd quip but hate their ways
shrapnel struck him as a flock of hawks
battle was praised

*

Ziggy Sarkis laughed a noted wag
cried hurrah for hussars but the horse
saw him first no shame on it to drag
doubt on his arse

never fear an airman's cap might fit
seven thousand feet above the lines
all he'd need for nerves were steel & wits
not to be blind

drunk of course no telling what he thought
over stirrup cups before the up
supping two too many Ziggy bought
Sopwith a pup

oof said he there's only so much string
pull the other Ma if die I must
let it be drowned in a submarine
honest not fussed

but another type of metal box
Ziggy found himself committed to
rudderless no wings a beast on tracks
best she could do

*

Raw could not have drawn the shorter straw
nursemaid to an Hindu & a toff
after crying what a bloody war
took his hat off

joining up from civvy street urgent
schooled on Maxims then in '16 Raw
switched to Vickers quit his regiment
MG the Corps

till the order came again all change
sent to man the loops inside a tank
on a hush job sort of light brigade
devil to thank

not content with that the arms were French
Hotchkisses with belts of metric rounds
fired sideways down along your trench
from over ground

this while doing six or seven knots
cooped inside a lurching metal box
hell on wheels & sweating blood in pots
sooner be fox



II

rich der pickings Allied soldiers wear
lambswool mittens linen under-clothes
fondly sent from homes untouched by war
nothing by halves

ration boxes stuffed with chocolate bars
pork & beef in rounds of purest white
dairy butter spiced with cucumbers
spinsters' delight

sticks of life called Hans or Christian stark
staring stormtroops little more than scare
crows patrol an eerie landscape pick
King George's fare

Kaiser Wilhelm's words irrelevant
marching orders those who understand
Hinderburg or Ludendorf like men
in no-man's land

deafened numb with cold & dumb they keep
hope alive in crater pools & holes
dug beneath the fallen when they sleep
kettle drums roll


but no thought of giving in has stuck
foreign mud beneath their feet is sweet
rich der pickings in zis Belgian muck
theirs no defeat

long as shells & wire spades & mud
don't give out for breakfast schnapps & bread
no surrender dead der Komrades' blood
flows black & red

not for Kaiser love of country God
Death incarnate caught their mood to live
strutting scarecrows trench by trench they plod
open eyelids

through the hail of iron fireflies
peering cooly down their barrels aim
deadly shots at Liberty's allies
GIs the same

bullets counting one for one The Fall
harvests pink-faced youths from Langedoc
Hartlepool and the prairie grain-bowl
hard place to rock


acolytes of anti-Christ survive
crucified on iron crosses rise
grim & bloody faced to fight again
ghouls with a yen

taking fodder groomed by church & state
pimply boys in numbers not too great
here & there they match them to their fate
tying to stakes

lures for Tommy Atkins bait for Jacques
traps to snare the Yankee infantry
charging reckless in open country
into the crack

doom awaits whoever should attack
caught in crossfire skittled by grenades
drowned in mud disguised by clever sacks
murdered in raids

worshippers of doom will win this war
kings of Death have forged an after-life
hung on barbs it jigs in merry gore
triumphant strife



III

training took forever half a twelve
month the plain of Salisbury all churned
up as Private Pandit learned to swerve
brake and reverse

differential failures plagued the work
twin transmissions see & engines kept
boiling over leaving fumes to lurk
deep in their chests

yet a better life than at the front
playing cards in barrack room or pub
letting conscript soldiers bear the brunt
till the last shove

still the war dragged on in France & five
times had Autumn's chill been hand in glove
when from o'er the Channel there arrived
orders to move

Jerry'd staked his last reserves the bout
really would be over Christmas come
just a frog-marching of the Jackboots
out of Belgium

*

tanks a Brigadier tells Parade
trample down yon wires bridge the holes
eat your very mud while feet of clay
follow in droves

wonder-struck the chappies listen up
one per company each tank will push
Boschie back three thousand yards & stop
so you may rush

bayonets fixed all through the gaps there left
round the blighters up if they will yield
otherwise dispose of them as best
clearing the field

cavalry will then take up the drive
gallop through the breaches you have made
kick what's left of Jerry's rotten hide
into his caves

if this works & with our tanks it must
by tomorrow morning's armistice
half a league of trenches guns & stores
fall unto us

*

blimey if the Hun is packing in
what's the point of staging one last fling
surely keeping casualties to min's
far better thing

orders Sunshine put your faith in me
what's an armistice but three black lights
floating through the stars as you can see
wait for their whites

scared is what I am & petrified
soil my pants a dozen times before
sunrise tanks or no that mud is wide
shrapnel galore

keep your head you sniveling lump of grease
think it's only you who'll cop a load
pray to God or write your Ma a piece
faith in me Toad

holding you to that so help me I'll
shut my trap but here's the awful case
you and only you will have me smile
Death in the face


IV


Whippet Sarkis Raw & Pandit three
men in a tank Death is waiting for
munch their sarnies swill their gin & tea
breakfast at war

zero hour's not till six so while
Captain Ziggy draws on cigarettes
Corporal Raw is snoring whizz-bang whines
like string quartets

Private Pandit shunning drink & smoke
prays a mantra to the fading stars
begging war god Durga to invoke
Venus or Mars

Durga rides as Kali manifest
tiger mounted many-armed & yet
peacefully in face & bearing smiles
comely & mild

fight thy foe she says with love not hate
killing evil purges thee from sin
send them back from whence they came that way
new life begins

Captain Ziggy speaks his mind to him
fading stars snuffed out by creeping light
rise & shine to live their lives again
while those who fight

die forever is it right he asks
killing mothers' sons because they're Huns
they believe their cause be just the fact
is here's the sun

Krishna it's a shame to die but worse
where's the sense in all this killing eh
tell me why we have to fight because
don't wanna play

cheery up my captain load thy gun
here today tomorrow gone & who
cares but those who live to soldier on
life's a rum do

we that kill the sacred water ox
God has doomed there's nothing left a crime
unforgiveable but bide our time
wait for the knocks

all that matters here in hell's the bond
soldiers kill like brothers each for each
swords & guns have waved a magic wand
no gurus teach

double edged the blade of honour cuts
slayed & slayer arm-in-arm alike
live or die it's shooting cocoanuts
sixpence a shy

pick the fallen up & eat 'em prize
cannibals no time to sympathise
fish the sea for sunken treasure or
perish ashore

only we as higher creatures think
better men than us will come anon
human beings should be carry on
if we don't blink

pearls of wisdom Private start her up
there's the signal three black lights above
forward both your engines man the loops
off with our gloves