Previews from the next (& last) chapbook 12,
"dropping the plot"...
The Way of All Fish
When we the British, this bastard race, rose from the waves sporting the very epitome of European Science, Art & Culture… who could tell the empire thus created would be vanquished in the twinkling of an eye? There were those who dreamt of a thousand-year Byzantine saga with successive dynasties taking the helm of the great oversized ship. Then came those whose purpose, more honourable perhaps but further screwed up, who at heart were just square-headed Christian Soldiers. And then along came least, though surely not last, called the English Speaking Peoples (WS Churchill) and whose aim was no less than world domination - while at every point prepared to drop the name United Kingdom, United States, United Nations even.
on Lady Godiva
one ungodly hour
the aforesaid dame
fresh from slumber came
out from her bower
müezzins & birds
musing on the great
mindlessness of state
savoured these words
saddle me an ass
that I might proceed
not on warlike steed
careless of class
through the sleepy town
with the curtains drawn
to to greet the dawn
under a gown
not of silk but sack
cloth though otherwise
bare to peeping eyes
forward & back
*
thus the married nun
bride to Jessie Christ
staged her famous heist
pigtails undone
from her husband’s pride
she extracted tax
breaks for peasants’ backs
cost of her ride
goodknows what he
who’d proposed the stunt
wagering it blunt
thought of her fee
she’d been tampered with
like a fairy queen
dryad or obscene
urbanised myth
but pornographers
can’t contain her soul
sex was not her goal
justice her prayers
*
now as pageant dressed
once a year in light
leotard & tight
serfs are impressed
feminists remain
challenged by her nude
progress call it rude
sex on the brain
yet the ride goes on
sponsored year by year
even cast as queer
heckled by one
harmless skin parade
hardly that the church
rolling with a lurch
comes to its aid
virgin birth they say
underneath that skein
gentlefolk refrain
almost to pray
unpopulist lines
queer Starmer’s pitch
just as Bo was pipped
Corbyn would of whipped
Ritchie Wotshisbitch
sacrificial clown
close one eye to the treatment of cows
burning gas like there’s no end of fuse
tolerate other folks’ racist views
these are the nows
then their finest hour world at war
when the fascists had surrounded them
choking back a rising tide of phlegm
stuck to the core
values never let the bullies win
hang ’em with the rope they’ve always spun
meaning let the bastards have their fun
then do them in
this appeasement Trump has brokered’s no
deal it’s pure & simple cowardice
faced with blatant autocrats he’s nice
bowing that low
Putin laughing out of bloody hand
scarcely crediting this Yankee knave’s
attitude to the land of the brave
truth bites the sand
the mark of Epstein
royalty transcends
loyalty to friends
Chomsky make amends
Epstein descends
public life requires
higher moral fibres
talking sick desires
buzzing the wires
secrecy’s not yours
like revolving doors
cleaners do the chores
careful of paws
teenage prostitutes
nobody disputes
are forbidden fruits
leave them to brutes
let dictatorships
take immoral trips
punters part with tips
serfs pay with lips
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| Not on my Wodge! |
