After leaving port
in March disguised
as the Norwegian freighter Rena Norge,
the Leopard set sail
its mission to disrupt
Allied commerce.
On the 17 March it was stopped
in the North Sea by the cruiser
HMS Achilles and ordered to proceed
to the boarding vessel
HMS Dundee
for inspection
Heavily outgunned
Captain
the raider's commander
Hans
von
Laffert
had no option
other to proceed
to meet
the boarding vessel.
Captain
Selwyn
Day
of the Dundee
dispatched
a launch containing a boarding
party
with an officer and five men
to investigate
the mysterious ship.
Hans
von
Laffert
realizing he was about to be discovered detained the party and after about an hour opened fire on the Dundee with a salvo of two torpedoes.
The steamer manoeuvred out of the way
barely in time
and the torpedoes missed
Captain
Day's
ship by twenty feet.
Day ordered
his guncrews
to open fire and a hail of shells struck the Leopard
damaging a gun
and setting fires.
The Achilles hearing
the sound of gunfire
returned to the scene and opened fire
on the raider as the Dundee withdrew.
Shortly after
the Achilles's arrival
the Leopard sank with all 319 hands
going down
with the ship.
Damage to the British
vessels was light
and the only casualties consisted of the six boarding party members who were trapped in the Leopard when it sank.

My mother said we were different.
Round peg, square hole,
but you still put your red peg right through my chest
as my heart was the minefield where you and me played battleships
till we sank into moonlight on a blanket in
your yard smoking cigarettes.
That blanket was my starship and your yard my volcano
as I couldn't be less square than
the night I said I love you, I love you.

That night you manoeuvred my body
like you had a map of my soul engraved
in the palm of your hand,
crafting me into stanzas with rhythm
even Shakespeare could not teach.
My syllabic speech echoing your rhyme
as you read between my lines
that were no longer straight.

My mother said we were different.
That we didn't fit, that I didn't fit in.
That love is not a feeling
but is a bicycle you learn to ride.
That true love is something to hide
at the bottom of your closet for
no one else to find.

No, closets are for clothes and bicycles for forests
as love is falling into dirt with your mouth wide open.
It is dancing naked to Nirvana at 3am
Screaming come as you are.
Please, come as you are.
I will never change your shape so that you fit me,
and I will never erase the lines that make you frown
or make you smile.


My mother said we were different.
Geometry was never my thing.
Thats just the way I am.

I should have known better than to rest on a stereo-type,
my eagerly awaited Latin lover tore into the night!
I didn't like the head stand he performed on my rib cage,
Nor the slurping grunts as he ****** his ****, as if he were onstage.

He flipped me like a burger and rasped me with his hands,
I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and remembered some good bands!
He said ''you like it baby?'' as he shimmied up the sheet,
I cowered in anticipation as he manoeuvred his great big feet.

Ladies, be careful what you wish for, it might one day come true.
Steer clear of stereo typing you could end up black and blue.
I'll just warn you, in a friendly way,  his name was  Henriques Stud,
Next time it's Roger Rabbit and not my Latin dud!

From the cradle to the grave
We're manhandled and manipulated
Manoeuvred like chess pieces
Arranged in columns, in  statistics, in order
Our worth is determined by skilful orientation
Influenced by others, employed by others, used by others

Faceless, nameless, featureless, utilisers that
Make sure we are kept within our boundaries
Yet, all these words have one thing in common MAN
Unscrupulous influence unfairly deployed
Ensure that our managed manhandling is exploited by the MAN.

As I grow older,
As I see seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn to hours,
Hours multiply by twenty four and lead me to days,
Days turn to weeks and weeks to months,
Where months multiply by twelve and lead me to years,
As this circle of life starts and kisses back to its end, we don’t even know where it began,
This circle of life, which has taken my former self and transformed me into my present self,
This present being is the definition of the walking dead,
Yet some disagree and say this being is a survivor,
You ask a survivor of what?
The answer, a survivor of life, a survivor of all that has been endured,
And all that is endured.
These seconds do not pass into minutes with ease,
Each moment in this life, is lived as if a lifetime has passed,
Yet the moment of despair, of tragedy that looms around her does not pass,
It lingers, allowing every inch of my body to feel this sharp, edged and lasting pain,
As if a sharp knife is being driven through my heart,
And with each passing moment, the knife is manoeuvred a little further each time,
Each new pang of pain that is experienced can be likened to this knife being twisted to the side and pushed further,
Literally destroying my insides, as to having no point of return,
The coroner was asked cause of death,
As he stated natural causes,
A whisper escaped her soul,
Cause of death equalled Life, as someone once said, “Isn’t life always cause of death”.

your birthday out in the meadow up on the cliff - so we’ll be closer to the stars, you said - the picnic rug spread out and covered with two glasses from your parents’ cabinet, a cheap bottle of champagne neither of us ended up liking too much, a pack of cigarettes buddy gave you as a present, a takeaway box of krispy kremes ordered in from the city, and then you and me.

before the first hour was even up you had somehow found a way to close that final gap between us, you manoeuvred yourself on top of me with an agility that could only be matched when you’re playing basketball. and then you were kissing me, everywhere, anywhere.
“logan,” i said, with those quick snatches of breath when your lips weren’t on mine and instead exploring other interesting places - the hollow of my throat, my cheekbones, the creases of the corners of my eyes.
“mmm,” you murmured, maybe with a question mark on the end but i wasn’t sure.
“you’re meant to be watching the stars,” i gasped, as you found a spot on my neck.
“i am watching the stars.”
i could see them above your head, crazy beautiful, you and the stars together, a sight matchless.
“no, you’re not.”
and by then you had moved back to my lips, and i tasted your words as you spoke into my mouth, fizzy like champagne and, of course, the inevitable sweetness of cinnamon. “yes, i am, mary” - your fingers in my hair, do you remember any ******* part of this? - “in the dark like this i can see the stars reflected in your eyes.”

What name should be given
to that enquiry
Which gets fever
Seeing baseless lies
Many are involved
some knowns and
some unknown ties
Enquiry is affected
by all those mighties
who know all loopholes
and associated anxietis
Investigations are too handed over
to those pat loyals
who can't show faces of
their all time royals
The fire of truth is dim
while lie now beams
How can that boat maybe rowed
whose rower is under
manoeuvred streams

When two ***'s
meet in a narrow
lane, there is an
immediate halting
of progress, neither
will concede until
someone intervenes.

You can command a
horse, but one has to
negotiate with a donkey.

Macron has met his match.

Bravo Boris, you have out
manoeuvred them all, 27
nations have you in check,
but no sign of the Monarch
conceding to the fascists of
Europe, God Save Our Queen!