give me water, give me fire,
let me scribe with blood my ire
emblazon vellum with his name
blot it out, end his game

languid, lazy, sunny summers,
blackened by the bombinating
darts of death from droning drummers,
breath of babies desecrating,

permeating peculiar fragrance
hypnotised by his own cadence
 avuncular charm to the rabble
made himself a Tower of Babel

as he faces interlocutor
forked tongue slithering with sick ease
he the notorious persecutor
refusing onus of war-freeze

proffering peace with guileful lips
whilst he plans apocalypse
ignore the innocent, defile the dying,
hell created through his lying

O give me fire, give me water,
let me scribe with blood his slaughter
let me scrub out cursed name
blot it out and end his game

canvas black, as black can be,
he tries to make it blacker,
like wolf skilled in lycanthropy
like corpses for hijacker

not enough of world starvation
too few souls in deprivation
not enough pain and hurt and hunger
the world it needs a new war-monger

the evil itself will self-consume
but first consumes the others
but 'til the sun its shine resumes
he'll **** off his own brothers

so huddle close humanity
take shelter while you can
and watch as lurid insanity
turns world to dust 'n pan

we heard the rumbling from afar,
smudge of darkness, smell of war,
and then the torrents burst from cloud
bullet-hail on the crowd

'twas too late to seek a shelter
from bombs that rained like helter-skelter
too late for kids who huddled cowed
donned too early their sallow shrouds

then the tyrant spoke out aloud
spoke destruction with fist avowed
no-one saw beneath brow proud
the madman saw a mushroom-cloud

no-one heard, no-one thought,
though air tingled with danger fraught
"he's not serious," "it'll come to naught",
now no-one's left to tell you aught.

i saw the willow's dripping branches
crying into the blue-black deep
its golden-yellow avalanches
falling where the monsters sleep

locks of green and silky hair
turn auburn as the dusky sky
brown and russet as the air
moist like blood b'neath battle-cry

i looked into the inky waters,
stirred them with my phantom foot,
still, dark carrion, freshly slaughtered,
murky, raven, black like soot.

all around the laughter echoes
in the places of the void
once i saw a bright green meadow,
once i saw a world destroyed.

every day the death-toll rises
every day catastrophes
every day no more surprises
just more new ... calamities

wading through the corpses dead
as they fade on news front-spread
swift they fade from memory
as swift arrives new treachery

no more tears
no more sighs
ears are numb
to mounting dies

rolling, rolling, empty space
lost all sense of human grace
passed all points irrevocable
world awaits the inevitable

sensuous tentacles tug
"don't be a mug"
whispers forgotten voices
drowned in oppressive vices
waters that suffocate,
defile and soil
living soul

They said he'd stop his lying,
they'd be wary of his deceit,
no longer would he'd be flying
by his party's pants' plush seat.

no more would he transmogrify
the figures and dry fact,
no more the wink and smile sly
buffoon and circus act

he'd abide by their critique
while changing his technique,
his approach would be bespoke,
never again his promises broke

so they'd have you all believe
their gargantuan claims
lips honeyed 'n cloying thieve
as his lackeys play his game

Does a leopard change his spots?
Or a dalmatian his black dots?
Have you ever seen pigs fly?
Is the moon a custard pie?

Does Winter follow Spring?
Can the tone-deaf learn to sing?
Can one run before one walks?
Ask a question before one talks?

Does the sun shine at night
Or the moon midst bright sunlight?
Can we move back in time?
Ascend Everest without a climb?

With some, deceit is nature,
their hyperbole and big talk,
in their spiel o' legislature,
in their manner and their walk

and as they breathe their last in dying,
as they writhe and grasp the nebula,
they'll be holding firm to lying,
till stone[d] silent in their sepulchre.

And as they ride their spirit's back
still they'll be the same ol' hack,
till at last they will atone
the public's groan and broken bone.

Evening will come, however determined the late afternoon,
Limes and oaks in their last green flush, pearled in September mist.
I have conjured a lily to light these hours, a token of thanks,
Zones and auras of soft glare framing the brilliant globes.
A promise made and kept for life - that was your gift -
Because of which, here is a gift in return, glovewort to some,
Each shining bonnet guarded by stern lance-like leaves.
The country loaded its whole self into your slender hands,
Hands that can rest, now, relieved of a century's weight.

Evening has come. Rain on the black lochs and dark Munros.
Lily of the Valley, a namesake almost, a favourite flower
Interlaced with your famous bouquets, the restrained
Zeal and forceful grace of its lanterns, each inflorescence
A silent bell disguising a singular voice. A blurred new day
Breaks uncrowned on remote peaks and public parks, and
Everything turns on these luminous petals and deep roots,
This lily that thrives between spire and tree, whose brightness
Holds and glows beyond the life and border of its bloom.

we've reached the very lowest point
it can't get any worse
so said the pundits in one voice
as if reciting verse

in unison they'd decried
the state of current affairs
now in hindsight admit they'd lied
but nobody anymore cares

for down the slide of despair
falls humanity all together,
panting polluted, poisoned air,
corruption of the weather

each step seemed the worst
but the dam had not yet burst
now the world is d* accursed
too late to press reverse

common man is powerless
to change our history's course
in face of political cowardice
and greed and avarice

blind to truth, blind to nature,
elected idiots of legislature,
titivate daily 'fore [or for] the mirror
deaf to all but their own ear

too late we've realised it's up to us
can't rely on the tin-gods
Not Boris Johnson nor Lizzy Truss
nor all the other despots

it can't get any worse
said the pundits in one voice
then they pushed Lizzy Truss
said, "you've got no choice"

is it any wonder
we've yielded to despair
time to buckle-under
close eyes and stop to care

yesterday i saw a guy
looked all human too,
facsimile of you and I,
had learnt a thing or two

but his soul had gone away
left him rotting through
outside, sure, he looked okay
inside was askew

for morality had doffed its hat
waived to him at gate
now for years his heart closed shut
his god obliterate

and as the massive star collapsed
creating blackest void
the evil grew and grew and waxed
till ethics all destroyed

i saw a guy yesterday
not at all like you
typical of the modern sway
unbridled lust worldview

now the centre of society
is all-******* hole
it laughs loud at plain propriety,
it's ******* in the whole

gone the love for modest dress
all respect for chastity
all eyes are on the tv press
creating their own gravity

"we want new, we're educated,
chuck all ethics down the spout,
we'll see ourselves vindicated
as the truth will out"

the guy i saw yesterday
he looked like you or me
but today the rot and decay
are all that's left to see

there is a place where Love sings
without being heard
where Love rises and Love falls
like the wings of a bird

it's a place of silent whisper
talks without a voice
a place where G-d and sister
for eternity rejoice

a place that laps
like the sea o'er land
a place that claps
with a single hand

but surrounding that space is tumultuous wind,
blows hither and thither, in voice that you sinned,
knocks against hard, unyielding earth
empty words echo 'gainst raging mirth

but with constant commitment we'll crack the hard shell
conciliate G-d's sister to the outer brass bell
then, sweetest music, together, will tell,
as angels bend ear to the light in soft knell

this morn full-stop appeared to me
(bowed low with great panache,
twinkled his eyes innocently
and twirled his neat moustache

and then loud he spoke up pertly,)
"one day", said he, "we'll meet",
"'not on your nelly'", said i, curtly,
and crushed him with my feet

he slid out as a comma does
and said, "okay, you win,
just don't make too much of a fuss
when i take you for a spin,

for now as comma, you surely know,
i cannot put an end,
your life will everlasting go,
and i, your humble friend,

will help you in eternal flow
will help you to ascend,
just slip out of your flesh torso,
and upwards we shall wend."

i've never mastered the art
found the gold for kintsugi
so the pieces of broken heart
remain; shattered for all to see,
but when i start
to pay attention
to broken heart
of G-d's ascension,
when i search,
piece by piece,
for His Light,
in place of cease,
when i walk,
stride by stride,
in trust assiduous
that He's by my side,
then i see no broken hearts.
For all is one. There are no parts.

those kids' fingers had claws of steel
marked their mark and crept insidious
how heart longed it could not feel
now squeezed dry of crying piteous

now all panache as burnt-out ash
falls between bars of ferrous grate;
if only i could clear the cache,
begin again; wipe clean the slate

paths of gold dappled bronze,
effulgence framed mauves 'n pink,
mirror sun-star in sky in yon
blue-purple drapes and silk.

swift the magpie and the swallow
dart in swoops of flame 'n fire
as overhead in shimmering halo
circles buzzard ever higher

o'er jardin of country-house
rich in greens and reds
as solitary darts a field-mouse
towards yon shrubbery beds

a bullet from a rifle
outta paradise
another life stifled
for buzzards love their mice

you wake up in the morn
full of vim and zest
plans and schedules born
before you're fully dressed

then to yer caffeine draughts
to blow the cobwebs away
scent of coffee wafts
as start of every day

and before you know it
all plans have flown away
off they go in orbit
as you're left adrift at bay

don't be another clothes' hook
if you see injustice, fight it

you're given contemptuous look
don't abrogate. slight it!

life's an unwritten book
don't be lazy. write it!

lest a book full of blank pages
and you a victim to passion's rages
a lick of dust flicked through the ages
never with life truly engages

When going on outing, hike or stroll,
for scenery or the sea
make sure you take an extra roll
in case of [woops!] emergency

beautifully posed
as dancer rare
as angel composed
was the apple in the air

of rose and of yellow
the aura on its cheek
of luster that was mellow
with self-centered pique

as it twirled a pirouette
whirled wheel-roulette
aware of self 'n none other,
unaware of tree mother

unaware of outspread
the tree's branches overhead
giving all it has to give
its roots that let our apple live

for the apple cannot see
for eyes it has but none
till the day it is set free
to renew cycle begun

then will it learn of hidden power
as from small grows highest tower
then will it know what it means to set free
its fruit to live their destiny

as each new apple breaks away
breaks yet another heartstring
as tree tries best to look away
as 'nother fruit takes wing

How do we stand
before the Almighty Being,
with outstretched hand,
or standing or kneeling?

How do we lift up our eyes
before the All-seeing?
Impossible, he sighs,
But it's eminently healing.

Everything

what need for gold
when sunshine pours
makes heaven's abode
on lush green moors

i looked into the future
and saw a broken race
hobbling bent as neuter['d]
longing for coup-de-grace,

the learned high academies
of philosophy 'n of culture
said hope caused neuroses,
disease as brackish water

it was crude 'n barbaric,
had no place in wisdom,
good for tribes o' primitive
understanding in closed system

and in the name of science,
they threw out all of faith,
'n in utter compliance,
themselves they did scathe

with faith and hope gone
was no point in bearing offspring:
"we need much less to spawn
for to stop populace exploding"

"and families are archaic,
smacking of Hebraic,
just loosen all the morals;
that'll lessen all the quarrels"

they said that a conscience
increased recidivism
that higher moral sense
was backward Darwinism

so generations arose
who had no sense or inkling
of a higher purpose
of divinity's twinkling

then i woke from the nightmare
and sighed big sigh of relief
it all was just a night-scare
all make-believe

it wasn't true
and never could be
people would ne'er eschew
faith, hope, and family

in the dark, dark chambers of underworld
where doctor holds scalpel o'er victim uncurl'd
where no-one sees save all-seeing eye
which sees unseeing through nebulous cry
there's a shout that goes out that No-One hears
shatters all worlds for wont of tears
craves a saviour when all's said and done
now sees vacant terror in a place there was none

i caught a ray of sunshine
and followed it up to source
up up along its golden line
and around its frolickin' course
i breathed its aura of divine,
of pregnant loving force,
then slithered back down the earth-bound vine
of texture rough and coarse

i smiled to my fellow man
and greeted him in kind,
in frown, in scowl, in face deadpan
i sought the soul refined,
and through that beam that human can
reflect from temple mind
i found legion suns more brilliant than
yon fire in groove assigned

"i know him not, nor ever seen him
therefore he cannot be"
so speak those whose lights are dim
whose eyes are blind to see

the iconoclast proclaims unasked
"i find no key to fit this door"
thus in haste will ever-lambaste
the spirit with mentor

us accusing o' being credulous
naive and overtrusting,
yet our fruits, sedate and sedulous,
are fresh and ne'er rusting

from the humble acorn nut
as sure as sure can be
- if it's not 'fore its time down-cut -
will grow a grand oak-tree

a glorious case of G-d's topiary,
deciduous and fulsome,
you do not need a seer to be
to be prescient of the outcome

likewise from the thorny bramble,
in spirit of jingoism,
will from its forth another amble
with similar egotism!

the cantankerous mule will likely beget
a finicky, surly colt,
apropos of its type and sect,
'twill bound, jolt and bolt

the inscrutable sheep,
timid 'n meek,
chewing with jaw
grass 'n straw,
will not create
in natural state
a brouhaha
or furore state

we do not need to postulate
or debunk scientific theory
to know that female with its mate
breeds apposite fruit alveary

thus should you really want to know
the strength of parent belief
look to its fruit for they will show
through texture, taste and leaf

the nuanced truth of hope-filled faith
breathing pathos, empathy and feeling,
not like some new-age wraith
hooey vibes of reiki healing

compare that to the stuffy hall
of gown'd caps of PhDs
from their trees the fruit that fall
beget atheists, drugs, disease

Jealousy, lust, and honour pursuit
Remove mankind from the world,
The yen for more, the 'don't give a hoot'
About the waste that's hurled,
Resources used, as *******
Now weary and up-curled,
Sends man's soul down the chute,
As Man dies out from world.

air ineffable in shapeless spirit
swirls the ether in words above speech,
circles the trees capped with green beret,
the oak, the sycamore, the hazel and beech,
whispers words without form of letters,
caresses the bark, the branches and leaves,
thought that is naked of outline or fetters
through the air's currents spirals and weaves,
speaking eternal to spirit supernal,
words of no sound or symbol or dot,
through life everlasting, vivid and vernal,
ties all
creation
in eternal
love-knot.

h                                                    
a          ­                                  
l                                    
f                              
                         a  glass  o'  wine                     ­ 
               a peck at ol' sleep-pill
has turned this head of mine
to [s]l                         ing standstill.
u                 r               
        m        e                      
   b                
    
        mind full of cotton wool
caught in a briar                            
             dumber than a king's fool
      court-jester for the hire                      

can't do a drop o' work,                                                      
thoug­h conscientious to a fault,
may as well go berserk:                                                      
"M­ake that a double-malt!"

As cat's whisker
Still thin silence,
Of no whisper,
In mute defiance
Of sick world
All Hell uncurl'd,
As soft she treads
'Mongst living dead,
Seeking, finds
Inviting minds
Musing, wades
Through depths of Hades.

Money subverts
says the Good Book,
greed of grabbing purse
turns friend into a crook

"Don't accept bribes",
says the Holy Writ,
It blinds the clear-sighted,
Makes confidant a twit.

money to unpious
is as potatoes to the blight
It "twists the words of righteous",
"corrupts the words of right".

The side emolument,
so rife in parliament,
turns democracy to faction
making mockery of sanction.

call me eccentric
i'll not quibble much,
better than egocentric,
hungry for money's touch

let leaders not be paid,
let them earn with honest *****,
commensurate to service,
to work of honest gain

it may be 'pie in sky'
but i'm allowed to dream,
if they want to serve us
let them feel the poor man's pain.