up for grabs

NFT on request

viewing figures

 

kitchen garden holocaust

or a weekend killing spree

suitable for families

young as they come

 

serial on cereals

during brekkers over lunch

after dinner supper too

also in bed

 

motivation's moot a key

point’s to piss psychologists

off as academics be

more of a blood

 

hound you get the smell it’s mean

see & once your teeth are in

don't let go until the vic

bays at the moon

 

haunting's how the soundtrack goes

sighs of missiles cruising by

every other mother's drawn

into the fry

 

thus your individual

dies in binges night & day

bundled up like lawyers' scrolls

tossed on the coals

 

evidence remains our pro

carbon dating agency

sits on sacks of solid state

testimony

 

gassed or poisoned blown up gunned

down or squashed no matter which

genre takes the biscuit you'll

get your desserts

 

Crime & Punishment for inst

Peace & War historic space

age stroke fantasy or post

modernist tropes

 

no such thing as overkill

plotlines shall be stretched the truth's

infinitely richer when

poorly rehearsed

 

sporting double-barrelled gun

names grenades remote controlled

IEDs authentic looks

ready to go

 

via satellite & drone

tuned from home they fly by wire

when off-line the payload's gas

capsules for laughs

 

beneficial weapons these

lethal rounds of friendly fire

send your troops on summer hols

magical tricks

 

still don’t geddit speaking plain

then Inspector Whatsyername

star of home & cinema

sleuthing wake up

 

latest episode’s come out

playing to your heart's content

mystery’s not which party done

it as you know

 

kids but when you watch them die

entertainment is it news

sport or drama sadly just

folks getting killed 

 

 

up for grabs

 

lines of tripe been laid

she’s unveiled her inner squid

quite a decent bid

 

with Picasso it

always was just fruit & nut

trifle for desserts

 

still she’s quite a dish

just beware of what you wish

for deceptive itch

 

pity oligarchs

can’t afford to cop this lark

she's got umpteen legs

 

grabs you by the neck

ankles wrists & testicles

there’s a happy wreck

 

 

 

FGS, don’t bring back the veil

 

Some teachers complain they still don’t know their students' names seven or eight months into the academic year. I opine it’s the same with mine, but neglect to say how shocked I've been when I finally glimpse a face after so long behind the mask. By their eyes and voice, my brain has constructed features for them. Nothing prepares me for the reality. A long pointed nose, or fuller rounded cheeks; looks of satisfaction or anxiety. Someone’s grey hair has put me in mind of a much older person, and I'm amazed to find a youthful looking forty-something. I can also be disturbed to think how this rather serious-looking person must have been wincing at my dreadful jokes this past few weeks. Many of my old suppositions about teaching the teachers come back to haunt me. What am I but a facilitator, a talking head in a room full of individuals? I have nothing to offer but overrated opinions. I am found out.

 

We've been sent back over a hundred years, to a Turkey when the veil was common for most of the female population. And now the males too are drawn into enforced anonymity, this leveling out of character into heads with eyes-only. The shape of a person's mouth, that most expressive of features, says more about them than words can do.

 

Individuality, eh? You can’t beat it, and wow betides those who take anyone for granted.

 

 

 

Київ 1943

 

liberty or liberation which

revolutionary shibboleth

cut in stone or driving Kruschev's Jeep

surfs up the crime

 

one takes care of conscience as in ends

justifying means whereas your ground

zero cannibal's thirst for revenge

stymies the swine

 

what’s the difference just a half-turned page

separates the freedom project from

its enforcement does the guillotine

leave such a line

 

witnesses of state we saw them drive

by the barricades their flags unfurled

drinks all round & offering renewed

partnerships while

 

liberties were taken victors wrote

history down on palimpsests they rubbed

maps of human races in their own

bloodflow like wine

 

 

 

Charley the Checkpoint Kid

 

Kennedy's alive

both of Kruschev's shoes are off

old Berlin New York

 

Caesar’s bed's unmade

God's out chasing someone’s goat

cockerel's counting sheep

 

we’re just taken in

questioned by a charming cop

out that cuts our throats

 

like the virus it

buggers faith in global don’t

ever postulate

 

watch the walls come down

bombs exploding all around

Charley’s back in town

 

no grabs huh