I’m laying still with my jaw clenched tight,
Fear gripping my legs so I cannot move,
While through the curtains the sun shines bright.
Chinese coronavirus 2019-nCov under the microscope. 3d illustration
This nightmare will end and I'll be alright
But a viral thought worms its way through,
So I lay still with my jaw clenched tight.
Fear gnawing reason...I've passed the blight
Til no one is left to grieve or blame
And through the curtains the sun shines bright.
A diary that's full, now appears trite.
The day ahead lies blank and unformed
So still I lay with my jaw clenched tight.
Fear forces my mind to The Infinite
Revolving thoughts stop and limbs relax
Because the sun through the curtains, shines bright.
The Earth eases and nature sighs,
Apple trees bud and birds own the skies.
I'm laying still and my jaw's not tight
For beyond the curtains, the sun shines bright.
22/3/20
Blue and green should never be seen, together In the bruised face, punched-swollen, In the crusty scab and oozing puss from a night-time brawl, In the purple lips and sticky phlegm of death.
But Nature's palette seen, together In the flash of the kingfisher skimming the river bank, In the darting mayfly and green hair-streak, In the meadow grass and everchanging sky, In the merging hues of the rainbow's arc, Is divine.
She was the honourable Margaret to the right, But to the left, as Margaret Thatcher Vilified and infamously renowned for Being the primary school milk snatcher. A humble grocer's daughter from Grantham A tory in thought, words and deeds. Rising through the ranks to become Prime Minister with a strict capitalist creed. For eleven years, this Iron Lady Gagged the unions and trampled the poor, Sold off the utilities, making shareholders rich, Announcing "Society is no more." The lady would not turn, so a bloody coup Turfed her out and now thirty years on Her legacy is still felt by the homeless needy Cos the council houses were sold and the profits gone.
Society will exist as long as someone cares About justice and peace, parity for all. She may be sainted by those on the right, But socialists cheer her downfall.
Happy birthday, the workers hero The one the capitalists fear, so Here's a letter from a socialist fan Who waves the flag whenever she can Because capitalism continues to fail The proletariat and inequality prevails.
You said it would not be simple To take control without a struggle. But you must turn in your grave When recession hits hard and they're Sold off the gas, water and oil. It's enough to make my red blood boil.
Zero hour contracts and the food bank. A legacy from the tories, who we thank For widening the gap 'tween rich and poor, Something you predicted 160 years before. Living labour. you said, fed the system That kept workers poor and in serfdom.
So listen up, you'll be pleased to hear Machines replace jobs, but do not fear For as the labourers are no longer able To spend, So these inventions make capitalism unstable.
So Karl, Marxism is your legacy And with it the death of democracy Cos there's one flaw in your philosophy Humans have an instinct for rivalry.
Take the game of Monopoly where the greedy Win power over the poor and needy. Thus even in a communist state Leaders emerge corrupt, and dictate.
Remember Russia under the Tsar's thumb Ripe for revolution and so become A place where workers took control But, the replacement is Lenin, a man with no soul.
Despite it all there is a desire To find a new way to live and acquire Fairness, equality and a voice To speak out for those who have no choice.
So happy birthday, and don't despair Cos there's plenty of folk who hope and care That the socialist principles you reveal Will one day soon, have popular appeal. I'm you're comrade, have no fear, I'll keep the red flag flying here!
I peered through the belfry trap door My eyes met his eyes, across the floor. In a whirlwind year The future was clear And we promised to love ever more.
Thirty years on....
I peer through the conservatory door I see him with grey hair galore. Despite his hard views On the current world news, It's him I still love and adore.
In the town, the cock don't crow With comb erect, the randy so and so. There ain't no hens who run for cover From the strutting, beady eyed, insistent bugger.
The bird that greets the dawn in town Sings from the top of the chimney's crown. "Look at me, look at me," it loudly brags, And another joins in for a right chin wag.
"The sun's up, wake up, get up," it sings To his dowdy partner who silently brings Worms for the little 'uns in the hedge While dad can't wait for them to fledge.
"Come to me," the teacher said To the woman at the well. "Then your thirst will be quenched, Your hunger cease. Heaven is yours, fear not hell. Water turns the desert a green hue Brings new life and makes all things new."
"Long life and good health," the master said To the Buddhists in Japan, "Comes from drinking matcha, green and hot, Then ponder zen like, if you can The mysteries of human existence of ying and yang in perfect balance.
In India a visitor is offered Chai, spicy, milky and steaming. A welcoming drink that comforts and calms Conjuring exotic daydreaming. Chai expresses the Hindu belief Of sharing, karma and to the needy, relief.
In Britain the national brew Was tea, strong, hot and sweet. An afternoon treat of sarnies and scones, The teapot made the table complete. A cup of tea, a humble beverage That cured shock and imbued courage.
Now tea comes in many guises, Decaf, iced and herbal infusions. The teapot's redundant, the ceremony gone As the teabag is dunked with no precision. The art of the latte and cappuccino perfected And we become coffee addicted.
poet does a run 