When We’re Done…

September 30, 2014
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We are the Tories – we know you’ll be impressed
We’re saving cash from scroungers that will give us interest
We’re buying lots of loungers for when we need a rest
And when we’re done
We are done

We are the Tories – we’re kind and generous
Our loyalty to royalty leaves you incredulous
But we who are important need our Mercs
You need the bus
And when we’re done, you are done.

We are the Tories – we pay for what we own
– Well, Daddy paid for Eton with his shares in Vodafone
So it’s right to let them off six billion tax –
Not them alone
And when we’re done
You are done

Well save you from ‘disableds’ as they’re stealing from the state
They think, because they’re labelled, that life’s an open gate
Blind or deaf or wheelchair-bound – it’s open to debate
And when we’re done
They are done

Why should all our taxes go to the NHS?
There’s loads of costly managers and still it’s in a mess
How can the world think it’s the best? We’ll starve it, make it less
And when we’re done
It is done

When we see those sterling signs it makes us lust and drool
That’s why we’re in this business, not to serve each silly fool
If you think we care for anyone, we don’t. We’re here to rule
And when we’re done
We’ll be done.


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September 16, 2014
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Tenderly, the candlelight plays
in the delphinium shades of your eyes
across the aged oak table.

Across the aged oak
we balance thoughts,
interlock perceptions,
desires united
like the patina of wine
ageing in oak casks,
maturing in unison,
flavoured harmoniously.

Across the aged oak
we butt like oak ships
through life’s outpouring estuaries
into our harbour of domesticity
where prevailing winds are tamed.

Tenderly, the oak reflects us
lending enchantment
to querulous candle flame,
gently stroking us
into woodgrain.

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The Day The Earth Awoke

September 12, 2014
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I couldn’t hear a thing
Couldn’t separate out
A single discernible sound
From the cacophony surrounding
From the mess of tangled thoughts
From the selfish noise
The endless prattle
Continual and pointless rattle
From heads that contain no brain
To speak of and
Yet still remain
To somehow
Continuously speak

I lost my poise
I yelled as a swinging
Ten tonne ball destroys
I yelled to splinter up my voice
And it worked
Everybody in the world
Stopped wittering on like fools
The air stopped vibrating
Birds stooped, mid-flight
To listen to the stillness
As the blinding raucousness turned night.
A porcupine ten thousand miles away
Stopped sniffling and rattling her spears
And cocked her ears to hear
The golden beauty of silence
That lasted in the mind
Of the simple and the wise
For seven stupendous seconds.
Before another soul uttered a stilted phrase
“What just happened?”
Shocked and amazed
And shattered that small miracle which peace assumed
And the madness volumed and resumed.

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