James R

James R Aug 2019

*******

Cobble-Clad, steeped streets
Adorned with arches and artefacts.
And tales of Tribes.

Relentless rain, sea-slanted
Culls the cowering crowds now
tucked tightly in touring traps.

Plain-plied propaganda inflates
Whilst the bloated brogue corpse bawls shanted slang to captivate

Massed mobs headlessly herded
Past wretched ruinous remains and craiced carcasses; innards infected with shameless shlock and schtick.

And what of the poets? The artists? The mused? If seeing such sights absolved and abused.

Their lyrics unwritten and verses unstated; but no matter; such history is now antiquated

A poem about summer holidays

James R Jul 2019

The Borump

Twas' drak'n darb in the 9-boroud sland
Pas' yeaths bore to with dozhalfen morpland
Stwhil ninglund asprak - a flickrin flopp
Lokcs wild untrewd gravaz mirsey strop

Won lords ashored off moor tym of-wight
Whyl bmumblgnig Johnny doze nye their crawe or bytte
yet hear wieR fayssd whit hist fay tof pear
Demmos in crass faw teesh grate cites off gare

Look away. Stay silent. Ignore if you must.
Just remember the li(n)e in people we trust.

A poem about democracy.

James R Mar 2019

H.E. (Hate Everyone)

High up, peering out,
From amongst clouds
Down at noisy ants
Following cues from
The Others for direction.

In front, prevailing pests encroach
And upset. Slapped skin sounds
Out abrupt, rhytymless.

Transfixed, I watch on seeing
Cracks. Shift position, refocus
Searching out for a glimpse
Of the real thing.

Screens all around purvey us
With beady eyes focussed and minds preset.
The cheese beckons on and they scramble
to feed.
While they can.
For now
Enough.

A poem about annoyance

James R Mar 2019

The Escape

All around,
Commoners Crow,
As above,
So below.

Benches full,
Some shout
And rave,
Few devout.

They clamber,
Push past
Each other
Words crass.

It spins.
We watch.
As words slip,
Now botched.

What next?
Crowds call.
Hammers down
Once more.

The same.
Over there.
They grin.
We bare.

A poem about democracy.

James R Jan 2019

Blencathra

Chest up, palms back. Set
Pose. Reset.
Painted amongst clouds -
To prove it.

A summit awaits. We
Tell ourselves whilst fixed
Fast on phones. Hold on,
Set. Pose.

Reset.
Continuing on, through silent
Pain, undistressed. Taking in - like the rest
****, schlock and schtum.

Reaching up. Holding on. Feet slip
Beneath
Loose ground
Heavily worn, trodden down.

Grip failing. Boots torn.
Gripping tighter.
Hanging now.
Reset.

Pose.
Set.
Point. Click. Check.
Reset.

Continue on like before.
Laugh off the failings and forlorn.
Make choices to which them will warm.
Set. Pose. Reset. Time and time again.

Back down we go.

A poem about three mountains

James R Jan 2019

Beaten

I lie and wait.
Peering out from beneath
A now-weathered rock.

I hide here.
Secure in the static. From
Predators perhaps but more
Likely the storms which crash.

I think and sit.
The snips and flickers against
These walls. Echoing, gnawing,
Inside contort; disguised yet
By exile; free to conform.

I won't break you.
Despite what I think and do.
And you'll stay;
Even if sayings aren't true.

A poem about erosion

James R Sep 2018

An Act of might

A discovery times ago,
Of spells and hats, sticks and stones,
Scorched earth (and flesh) charred black the snow,
As bones were broke for mud thrown.

Civilised though we reclaimed us - just.
Yeast left to bread, until proven at least.
Yet the hands of many pluck stitches to crust.

Today trials echo of the years,
Whence witch blood spilt pure as tears,
Whilst callous crocodiles weep and crow,
With their fifteen in-line to Show.

A poem about perspective