x-mas factor

no, i wouldn't go so far as to say i hate it.
i don't like all the sales hype.
not a good time for those who go hungry
or any other time for that matter.

so we had a tree in the corner,
with lights flashing cos they are meant to
and a fire, for the coziness of it
'n plates laden.

it was great sitting round the table,
all five of us,
even milkshake, our cat, had a salmon
head - well seasoned.

maybe a midnight mass would be good
with all the pomp and singing;
otherwise, i have to say, we did ok
today without god, queen or prime time

tv viewing. mind you a squad car did
drive by, lights flashing but no news
of men, or women, or little children blown
to pieces like in some parts of the world.

so greetings to all who get this far.
thank you for all you have done. amen.

oh, the champagne was a bottle left from
the launch of the jazz cafe, parkway that is,
in 1991 - turned out to be an expensive bottle
but today worth every loving sip.

mind you, freya said she hated champagne
and had every right to say so.
i drank her glass...

Witness

Bright, clear, cold.

Closing the front gate,

there was a youngish black guy,

standing on next door’s steps.

He caught my eye,

came down.

“I know you’re just going out

but can I give you something to read?”

“Not if about Jehovah’s Witnesses”.

He almost smiled.

“Is it The Bible or Jehovah’s Witnesses

you don’t like?”

I just muttered “Jehovah”, felt a little rude,

added, “No offence”

and turned away.

There were two others knocking at the house

on the other side.

I strode off in the crisp air to buy

earrings for my daughter, presents for two

friends at school.

And I fancied some good smoked bacon,

The sort that doesn’t go watery in the pan.

So you can see I did have much better

things to do with my time.

Well-read?

yeh, i wish i had a pound
for every book i haven't read
every film not seen
every bottle drunk instead

yeh, we have the pounds and dollars
the books not read
the films not seen
the living dead ahead instead

Apple Cake

Thursday afternoon, miserable outdoors,
- a mini-tornado in Kensal Rise, just
the other side of North London.
My cat and I stayed put. I made
an apple cake.

The mixture looked very dry. Added
a lot more milk. Gave it a good
beating. Started pouring scraping
the mixture into a tin -
AGHHHHHH - forgot the apple!

This proves there is a god out
there who
looks after my cake,
steers George's right hand when
he throws the switch,
disguises weapons of mass distruction,
waves his plonker, sorry - trident - over
the sea,
sends those I really
dislike to bake on the bottom self
in a low oven.

One large apple
later, grated, and all was ok.
Truely a miracle. My cat
is a true saint.
St. Milkshake, bless her.

Things That Go Bump

A converted roll-on roll-off ferry.
Just a few kids scattered around
the food was flabby chips and cheap
baked beans. I sat and thought of
water flowing in through the car
doors, swilling side to side, rocking
the boat - but also the gnawing
feeling no one knows what this is
costing.

We sat round in the grim, windowless
room. An ill-fitting rectangle of
formica tables. A short fat woman
in a fur coat and too-shiney made
up face marched out - a strange
form of power dressing? The circle
of people talked in circles: to
support the schools, to support the
strikes - a no no of course, nods of
assent. I looked at the agenda. It
made no sense. Should I say something?
How will that fit with the schools and
the strike and ofsted and every child
matters and performance management
and bugets and appraisal and if I say
anything or not I'll not have a job
and my mouth is dry as dry.

Then I woke and remembered I don't
do that any more, any more, any more.

Next To Godlessness

Ridley Market was awash
with cleanliness.
Going by the bananas 'n mangoes,
a stocky black guy, phone
clamped to his ear,
"mek sure yu wash yur hands CLEAN".
By the bagel shop, another two
black guys talking in earnest,
"yu get gangrene in yu finger,
yu CHOP 'T OFF".
Over aubergines, red peppers,
ginger roots, 'n bunches of
coriander, there was a little
crowd. A woman in a pink
shop coat shouted,
"well put it this way, I kept
my flip-flops on".

No Hands

Late teens,light Caribbean
-looking,riding his bike,
no hands, on the
wrong side of the road.
Zipping up
his jacket 'n turn
ing his head
to see any opening between the cars.
An impercetible lean
of the hips
veered him on to the other side
of the road.
Amazing what people
can do when they don't put their
minds to it.

Looking Ahead

The little brown-skinned girl started it
with her lime-green knitted hat.
The cabling reminded me of all those
blue or brown jumpers.
Looking to cross Stamford Hill the
other way an Ann Widdecombe look-alike
but with a straight set white baseball cap.
A Hassidic Jew sported his hat covered in
a Morrison’s carrier bag to keep the rain off.
Further up a swarthy brownish Jew
with a brown knitted skull cap stopped,
greeted a very respectable looking Jewish
man pushing a pram with a little girl
hanging on. Brown knitted skull cap
walked with a limp. During the pleasantries
he sort of hid a cigarette behind his back;
hellos over, he limped and puffed away.
A tall slim woman in a full length black burqa,
I could just see her tall tapping high-heels.
A fairly elderly flat-capped man steered a
vintage three-wheeler onto the pavement,
fingered his numbers into the Lloyds cash machine.
A very dark black guy, not young in years, pedalled
along – he wore a sort of black tea-cosy but
you could still see his furrowed face.
His front wheel had three yellow tennis balls,
stuck between the spokes, going round ‘n round.
A big red double decker bus, rested up under a tree,
swallowed a little diesel, showed off some
fetching khaki yellow locks.

Fish in the Sea

Now we know, do we not?
There are not always more fish in the sea.

No Excellence in NICE,
just Efficiency or Economy;
not so noble at all.

As for those unholy cowardly deviant
self-called muslims in Baghdad
- the ones beheading to be damned -
it is all too easy to believe believers
behave in such unclean ways.

No, human life is not priceless.
There is a price on all our heads
- just less on some than on others.

Another stick on the fire, Darfur,
there are plenty more fish in the sea....

Humphrys in Search of God

Well, Humphrys seems a very good, well-meaning, man.
And Jonathan Sacks speaks well on the radio, at least.
So: discuss...

Jonathan Sacks: ....I think God is a human universal, and history shows that when people don't believe in God they believe in other things. I'm thinking about fascism, about communism, about idolatry, whether you worship the folk, the race, the economic or political system. One way or another, if you worship anything less than God, anything less than the totality of all, then you get to idolatry, which begins innocently enough but ends in bloodshed on an enormous scale.

transcript here

more information here

Hello

just now on the bathroom floor
two copies of Hello and one OK
nothing to do with me and don't
some people have good teeth
if seeing is believing...
[Hello - are you OK?]
what a load of total utter crap...

Good Morning, Everyone

Lovely outside. Clear, blue, sunny…
Anyone up to having a go this morning?
Driving back from Highbury just now, I had a few ideas….

Beginning
Tongue-in-cheek fairy tale start:
“One time, not really that long ago, two planes were crashed into two huge tall buildings in the United States. Thousands of innocent people were killed. The men responsible for this were linked to an international terrorist network called Al Queda. Because of this, the United States invaded Iraq. Now, Iraq had nothing much to do with Al Queda. It didn't even have...."

Middle
Spoilt for choice here:
Saddam Hussein
– where did he spring from in the first place?
Cruelty and injustice
- on a national scale: inhumane treatment, hanging, torture, lethal injection, Guantanamo, Palestine, roots of extreme Zionism,
Financial corruption
Oil Oil Oil, energy, Enron, Haliburton, Dick Cheney, Bush
Political corruption
“Democracy”, “Freedom”, money, power, engineering ‘the vote’, Florida and the rest.
Costs of war
– lives, money, fear and misery
$340,951,140,814 and rising here
Iraqis now 58 times more likely to die a violent death, Lancet
Estimated civilian “body count” here
US and other western military here 3079
Seriously wounded 10,000
Journalists killed here

Ending
You’ll have to draw your own conclusions.
Don't worry - sometimes words fail me too.

General tone
-up to you. You could set it to music – I wouldn’t have a clue, but then I’d never have got a song out of 9 million bicycles in Beijing. Though on a morning like this I could kiss the sky.

tart reply

pastry crust
squeeze of lemon
sugar
sliced apples
pastry crust

fat chance
pastry
as
thin
as
skin

A change is as good

sometimes scraping and sanding
are more rewarding
especially outside in the sun
and cutting the grass
at the end of October

recycling

began a poem
about recycling
but decided
best bin it maybe
something better
will emerge from it

passing comet

in the beginning
at the end, during the middle -
the start is a star;
falling trees;
fingers clawing turf;
flint and steel.
throw another log on the pyre.
let the sparks fly.
let's have another story...

fall back

that man over there
may well be right
looks like Auden
did say "poems are
never finished,
merely abandoned."

so I'm off for a
pot of tea and a
hot cross bun,
whether in honour
of last Easter
or next, who knows?

at this rate we'll
be putting calendar
forward a month in
Spring and back in
Autumn.

Pathological Assessment

Sue would have made a model Nazi.
I said so at the time and more than once.
Small, slight and mousey, but with a
glint in her eye when it came to
targets, assessment, performance,
excellence in cities, performing
people, rationalizing, downsizing
upsiding, capsizing..

She liked to refer to DOG - division
officers group - for budgets, she knew
PUD: predictable unpredictable
discretionary.

She had two cats. She ought to have
had a large dog, but she did have a
large bloke who padded around after
her.

Now she is dead - done, dusted -
and I hope when she died she felt
she had met all her targets -
no scrub that last line - I hope she
had found a little fun and recognition
and love - even from the large bloke
who padded around after her.

And it is not just young people who
are turned off education by too much
emphasis on targets and assessment -

and Sue did occasionally smile - the
half-real one not the fixed one - and when
I left she gave me a little smiley
face - not on the official reference
you understand - just on a hand
written compliment slip.

And it is not just young people who
are turned off education by too much
emphasis on targets and assessment.

People need names not numbers
People need names not numbers
People need names not numbers

A School of Thought

Past sixties concrete school, 'n a large plane
tree lifted 'n split the little wall.
Two 236 buses nodded at each
other, looking busy at it. They

passed a roadside shrine outside some flats
- a young - black - guy with a pretentious name
stabbed. Died. Reference to the smell of weed
'n local residents had wanted cctv

-well that's what the newspaper cutting said
alongside the bunches of flowers on the
railings, cards, candles in wine bottles.

An escalator of paddling pools, in Atlanta,
for Martin Luther King - 'n that little garden
a more loving, personal, touch.
'n a long silence after the speech.

'n the earth will fold it gently unto itself
- though probably not for a little while.
Steve frowns when I run ideas by like this,
but that's how it works - folding sleeves.

Late night smack

Stereo types annoy me - left 'n right
- but an insider dealer unreliably
informs me

your typical american looks in the
refrigerator and wonders, "What would
I like to eat now..."

your typical brit looks in the
usually smaller fridge and looks to
see what needs using up....

[on a purely personal note, you under
stand, we have a big fridge - hot and
cold running ice...]

so there in the cooler we have Iraq,
'n Afghanistan, way hot enough to spoil
any ice box...

North Korea still dripping vital
fluids all over the plate; N.Ireland
perched up in the unused egg thingy;

'n the lower salad drawer, no the
left one, has a wilting bag of
Palestinian leaves.

People Traffic

Corner of Mare Street and Morning Lane -
Large African woman, JB carrier bag one
side, Tesco's the other; big golden moons
tightly stretched on black skirt and
buttoned top; black, hornrimmed, walks
by.

Greyed shrivelling West Indian man
ambles on, clutching Tesco bag, newspaper
sticking out.

Under the tilting black lamp post
a late twenties white guy, black wavy
hair and thin framed specs, light blue
open neck shirt, black trousers - maybe
a little Italian looking - is facing

an olive skinned woman, similar age,
black dress with half length sleeves.
Her hair is long and shiny black, done
with a long thick plait hanging down
her back.

They talk, holding cigarettes
down by their sides, sending little
smoke signals up into the Sunday
watercoloured sky blue October air.

Fat wha'?

Macdonald's?
Bin Laden?
fat chance...

soldiers
have mobiles
fat chance...

txt messages
fat chance...

happy meals
fat chance...

fat chance...
fat chance...
fat chance...

Don't forget...

£2.50 per week for Joe
with early Alzheimer's
is just not worth it.

We need to spend more
on helicopters 'n bombs
for Iraq 'n Afghanistan.

'n a young girl picking
firewood in Darfur, to
cook some food - forget it.

Valerie

Don't remember this
- the handwriting is mine
- and I remember Valerie.


I'm Valerie
An' they pick on me
They ban me from school
For acting the fool.
Is it brains that I lack?
Is it jus' that I'm Black?

Two's me, two's me
Cho man, talk t' me
Don' mek me feel bad
D' ye think dat I'm mad?

Well I plan day by day
Try to get my own way
I don' have to behave
I can joke - I can rave
Push the teachers aroun'
Rub their nose in the groun'
Well tha's bad, but it's me
An' I'm called - Valerie.

Version

Early on in London, Colin taught
Religious Education in the next room.
I got a kick out of comparing notes
with him and we had many a laugh.

One day he came into my room in middle
of a lesson - later he said how I was
just talking and they were all listening.
By the end of that little chat, I had

offered to do a re-write of The Parable
of the Talents. There is a lot of merit
to the parable - at least it is about
talents, not special needs or targets.


Version

Leh me tell yu 'bout a guy name Lloyd
Dat come from up Wood Green.
He must've been de coolist cyat
Dat I mahn ever seen.

Shoulda seen de clothes he wear,
He was a real smart dresser;
'is clothes an' ting come from Take Six
An' 'is suit- all made-to-measure.

Cho, de time Lloyd tek fe comb 'is locks
- I never see no one so fussy,
But he reckon it was wort' it
If it help him capture.

Didn' tink much of school, yu nah,
He always actin' clown,
De only ting Lloyd want real bad'
Was fe own a real big Sound.

Pretty soon de guy get rich.
He start a club - Four Aces -
It was a real cool place back den,
One of dose Soul an' Reggae places.

Den Lloyd decide it time fe res' up.
Sit back an' mek de breads.
He clean forget 'bout Babylon,
An' Ras - de God of Dreads.

God clap him down dead one day,
Poor Lloyd's head full wid Thunder -
Dat sure one set o' speaker, he thought,
How many watts? I wonder.

"Dyam wutliss fool", roared God,
"Look: Clubs, Money, Fancy Clothes -
I gave yu all a Life Time,
An' yu spend it all on those?"

limbo

best draw
a veil
over it

A Sort of Blonding

"On no, I like a man
to dominate me",
and she tucked his
high-heels, flares,
flawless afro into her
Fiat and wheeled him
back to his baked
potato supper.

Encounters

As I lined up this morning for one
of those traffic calming narrow width
things that drive me up the wall,
a tallish smartly sporting dapper man

was escorting two black spaniel dogs,
each on its own lead and at slightly
cross purposes. Another tall rosy
cheeked suited man passed the dogs

in the other direction. They two men
exchanged smiles, and when the younger
man who was giving a preliminary
suck at an an yet unlit cigarette had

gone on some yards, he took the cigarette
from his mouth, turned rounds and looked
after the man with dogs, and looked as
if to say "Who the hell is that guy?"

You can see the little urbane scene
settled in my memory this morning,
maybe to remind me that it is good to
be alive - well I think so - and that

it is deadening to be always eating
plates of brown beans and rice.

Spell Check

After six fat volumes,
much read,
we ought to look out
for Potter.

They are much banned,
those books and
"Every burned book
enlightens the world".

A click on a portkey
and you're there:
morphed, transfigured,
transported.

Pensieved memories, erased?
Windows, Apples, Vistas
- one William Gates -
more snakes slytherin'.

Basking in the dark,
under the lady's umbrella,
watch out for
Harry Potter
and an encore from
the Sorting Hat.

Hen Run

The back door was the front door,
with two steps down to the farm
yard. White washed walls with hens,
cheepy chickens, aristocratic turkeys.

The cock flapped his wings, flew at
me all of three feet off the ground.
I must have yelled and Chris was there
"never mind that old fool" as she tucked

the cock by her side without a squawk,
plucking it over to the white wooded
kitchen table where the farm worker sat
on the bench with dinner and buttermilk.

Another day I walked across the yard.
A little pullet, no threat at all, ran by
and dropped down dead at my feet. Yes,
Chris was there, picked up the pullet

sniffed it, started to pluck. By the
time we got it on the kitchen table
she showed me how the tail could button
into a hole she had left in the skin.

"But I thought you couldn't eat a
hen if it just dropped dead, like that."
"Freshly dead", she said, "and a shame
to waste when a body's hungry".

A little handful of breadcrumbs, thyme,
chopped onion and we headed off down to
the main Dublin road where the cars went
by and Maggie Brown lived in her bottle

green dress and dark brown house - Chris,
my godmother, said Maggie was a poor
scrap of a thing and could do with a
good feed. So Maggie Brown got the

little chicken and I hope she enjoyed
the oniony stuffing and sucked the bones.

Salt

Our first holiday as "lads"
we hauled out of our tent
four of us
headed down to the sea.

Stones and air clinked with salt
blue sky, white clouds,
waves crashing on the shore
an awe-inspiring rocky stack.

We strolled along, hardly talking,
faint stoney path splitting.
They meandered up above
I continued below, no sweat.

We met soon enough, paths and us,
continued walking along.
All of a sudden Damien snarled at me
"why do you always have to be fuckin'
different?"

And the path and the waves
and the "lads" strolled along
four of us
along the shore and onto the rocks.

Stick Figure Olympics

Foot race
Arms race
Faith race

et 2

2 bad...
2 late,
2 write
2 night.
2 morrow?
2 be honest,
2 much stuff about gods.
2 much of that sort of nonsense.
2 all of us, a good night's sleep.

are you sure?

there are millions more
ways of doing something
than there are of doing
nothing

there are millions more
ways of being wrong do
ing something than there
are doing nothing

when someone says they
will "just go ahead and do
something", it may be
better to do nothing - or
at least just think sufficiently
first

people need to be more
assertive
about "doing nothing"
about being uncertain

which is not to say that
it is right to stand by and
do nothing when there
is something happening
because of something we
should not have done in
the first place.

Cooking Vinyl

Tuesday afternoons after lunch,
the Ma and I used to visit
old Miss Regan round the corner
in New Street. Inside, the house
was brown wood and dark green. I played
on the floor in the front room
while the Ma and Miss Regan talked
about things.

One day, Miss Regan showed Ma
how to make plant pots from old
records - 78's. I stood by the kitchen
door and watched Miss Regan put a
record over a big pot of water and
heat it up. After a while, the record
softened and the middle went down.
The record went hard soon after being
taken off the pot and "There you are,
what do you think of that? There's the
the hole at the bottom to let the
water out."

Miss Regan gave the Ma a few records
to make pots with. We tried, but they
turned out crooked and useless. I put
a record on a bit of Meccano and tried
playing it with a sewing needle -
I could just hear someone singing.

Some years later, it turned out Miss
Regan had a grown up daughter locked
upstairs all that time. I wondered did
she ever shout out, or was her voice
locked into the old records Miss Regan
melted down into plant pots?

Balloons [2]

Hilary introduced me to Seymour
Papert's Mindstorms soon after it came out.
"So given time, with these computers
everywhere, new ways of thinking and
learning will inevitably be developed."

As I remember it, Mindstorms went a
bit further - it could be that faster and
better access to each other and to inform
ation will have to inform our political

process.

Papert's friend's balloons?
- that was just a send up....

Balloons [1]

Miss West was Head of Lower School
Queen of all she surveyed, almost.
Pushing on a bit by then, radiant,
well she was deeply in love with Bill.

Welsh and with a beautiful singing voice,
yet her voice of authority was shrill,
a strangled constricted sort of sound.

That Thursday morning, she came to my room.
Excuse me, Mr Flavin, I need to speak
with 3FV:

"Yesterday, on the way back from games,
the coach had to stop at a garage,
the one just outside Gorsefield.
While the coach, with this school's pupils,

was there, a contraceptive machine
was broken into and the contents stolen.
As pupils of this school, you should be
ashamed of yourselves." And at this point
her voiced hitched up a notch or two:

"That was a very stupid thing to do -
You - you - can choke on those things!
Thank you, Mr Flavin."

Thank you, Miss West.

Tamale Pie

Dorothy was Canadian; frizzy
red hair, pale flushed skin,
piercing eyes behind round
learned spectacles.

She insisted on serving fresh tea
- as opposed to diluted stewed essence -
and stunned me, at least, one day by
making a superb Tamale Pie.

She was manic about global learning
networks/learning - even tried to set
up a Learning Exchange in Dalston
with lots and lots of index cards.

When she became too manic she
stopped talking altogether and then
allowed herself to be booked into
the German Hospital.

Ken and I visited her after a shift.
We talked, Dorothy smiled and wrote
quick little notes to us. On the way
back I said she looked well; Ken looked
at me very doubtfully.

Dorothy was heavily influenced by
Ivan Illich - we don't hear much
of him these days, but I remember
Dorothy and her Tamale Pie.

carbon dated

Sit Down And Shut Up!

Sharon, Koulla,
In Room 13,
The strangest class you've ever seen.

Yelling, warning,
Threatning, scolding,
Gina Davis, Colin Bolding.

Pencils, papers,
Chewing-gum, toffee,
Sharons(2) and Amo(Kofi).

Hurried breakfasts,
Cornflakes, porridge,
Raymond Grimes and Stephen Horridge.

Arsenal's North Bank,
Blues in their Shed,
Gary Clark's at home in bed.

Manie, Courtney,
Up Richmond Road,
Ganga Strictly Not Allowed.

Debra Humphreys
Sat on a wall,
Earl of London made her fall.

Late detention
In Room 15,
Alma, Danielle, and Pauline

Donaldson, Robertson,
Bizzel and Burke,
Please David Cassidy

GET THEM TO WORK!

Fingers And Thumbs

The Head of Year seemed a nice enough man,
youngish friendly not too tidy office.
Girls and boys knocked at the half open door,
"forgot my tie, sir" and that sort of stuff.

"Ah, yes, Jeffrey. No problems most of the time,
but then things blow up out of nowhere.
If there is a rumpus in the corridor,
that will be Jeffrey. Not the brightest but
pleasant enough. Nothing I can
put my finger on."

He went to get Jeffrey, couldn't find him.

The Head of Year phoned again the next week.
"Things have taken a bit of a turn here,
Jeffrey would like to visit you."
"What's happened?"
"He'd better talk to you himself - and
his father is in full agreement."

Jeffrey came to see us, relaxed, friendly,
happy to chat away but not about himself.
"Yeh, I like it here - relaxed and friendly
and I like the girls." And they liked him
going by the odd squeal.

Jeffrey popped his head round the office door,
"Can I leave this here? - I have to go out".
Well it was lunchtime.
"But you mustn't look," with a grin,
putting his carrier bag over by the wall.

So of course someone looked: a long shiny
silvery dress, a pair of silver high
heels and a Diana Ross LP.

Jeffrey's father was smallish, nice,
friendly, more Irish than his son. A bit
beaten down looking. "Oh Jeffrey's all right.
We get on better now. We talk about
this and that. He'll be all right."

I tried chatting with Jeffrey as we walked
near his house by Stamford Hill. He said
he had a good friend, Connor, a dustbin
man. I pictured Eddie Yeates. Sometimes
they went to the pictures. "Sometimes we just
talk." He looked directly back at me, "It's all
OK - I'm all right, really."

small fry

This the SECOND TIME
that fish stall man in
Ridley Road Market
slipped me a whiting
in the bag of sprats
for tonight's supper

I want an A-POL
-OGY this instant.
Curse the unholy
fish seller and stall.
Burn his thin blue bags.
How dare he sell crab -
Burn, Bomb 'n Invade!
'n they sell pig in
the evil road 'n
women sell salad.

I DEMAND respect
for my fishy faith.

APOLOGISE NOW!!!

Believe Or Not

Bob 'n Meg were on dark rum 'n orange,
right by the door for a quick getaway.
Twenty-seven empty Guinness bottles
covered the little table at the back.
David started putting stools up shouting
"Time to go lads. Finish your drinks."

Outside, warm soft fish oil air 'n a lean,
first front, then back, on the rust-pitted rail.
Out of nowhere 'n over to the side,
Billy 'n Noel punching vicious lumps, torn
collars, blood spattered fronts 'n lips.

A heart-thumping fight, pulled apart, calmed down.
Billy heaved away, dismissively looked
at white shredded knuckles, dealt with his snot.
"You OK, Billy? What was that about?"
"He said Angels existed 'n I didn't."

Sour Grapes

Shady Lane by the Keeper's Lodge,
a cool green tunnel - just the odd
speckle of sunshine on the tar.
Climb a gate or a bank you could
see the sky meet fields or sea.

Three of us strolled along swinging
ash sticks and pulling grassy stalks
to chew the sugary inside bit.
Bren - his eyes could see colours
under birds' wings - spotted an elder
tree in a grassy patch in off the
road.

Like bunches of grapes - a couple
of moments and tugs left three Roman
reclining nobles lying on the grass,
bunches of berries aloft above mouths,
little fingers outstreched as only
the best Romans would do of course.

A few laughed tight purple bunches later
who should march by likety clip in
black suit white collar 'n grey white
hair but Brother Fergus. He didn't
miss a stride just marched on throwing
"oh they're deadly poison, deadly poison"
from the corner of his smoker's teeth.

just in time for wednesday

just
in time
for wednesday

A Poem For 1ML [1975]

I compared notes at the time with Hilary who taught Maths. She was one of the first teachers to introduce computers into the classroom in London. She told me how children - and many adults - on being introduced to a computer for the first time, tended to ask of it, "What's my name?"
I guess the same is often true of creative writing: "Where is my name?" - or at least "Where am I in this?" Or "How does this relate to my world?"


Please sir, can I go out?
I'm sorry that I'm late.
Amanda's hitting Tracy.
No sir, I can't wait.

Give me back my ruler,
I wanna draw a line.
Tony's throwing bubble-gum.
Please sir, what's the time?

I haven't got a pencil
- can I use a marker then?
Joyce won't leave me alone, sir.
Can anyone lend me a pen?

Oh sir, I want a drink,
I think I'm gonna be sick.
How many marks did you get?
Julie Foster's really thick!

Sir, can I've a bit of paper,
like that one that Coral's got?
Can I take off my coat, sir,
it's getting very hot.

Sir, Morris won't stop hitting me.
I've finished question two.
Sharon's kicking Alicos!
Please sir, what can I do?

Fidel's making faces.
Donald's fallen off his chair.
Sir, you didn't put my name in
- that's not really very fair.

Sir?
Sir?
Sir!!!!
Where's sir gone?????

Progressive Proportionality

9,
    11,
        14,
              18....

carry on

45cm length,
35cm width
16cm depth

an alternative route
could be
a tamper-proof tank
on each plane
with copies of
bible, qur'ān ‘n
the complete works of shakespeare
suspended over
breakable compartments:
man’s piss
pig’s blood
‘n Jack Daniel’s?

Seedling

Money is not
The root
Of all evil

Trees do not
Hang men
From branches

At The Bottom Of The Pond

I'm not going in.

Everyone else had gone back after break.
Chris was balanced on the far side of the pond.
An ordinary good looking lad - brown hair
in a fringe, pale slightly freckled face,
high cheekbones and calm hazel eyes.

He threw the first big stone in the pond,
arms stretched straight up,
deliberately holding it for seconds.
A big delayed splash 'n thud
like a depth charge.
He waited until all was well settled down.
Another splash 'n thud.

I tried walking slowly round the pond.
So did he.

When it looked like I had cut off his supply
from the garden rockery,
He started heaving at the end of a garden seat.
I walked back around to the seat.
He walked back to the rockery.

All he said was
I'm not going in
and
I don't care
Apart from that he was calm;
Even his pale blue anorak looked
peaceful

Another splash 'n thud

and another

and another

So I said
If you can't come inside, like everyone else,
I'm going to have to phone your dad

I don't care

Another splash 'n thud

Inside and upstairs, on the phone,
the blue jacket was still outside
but then appeared at the office door.

I spoke with dad
said there was a bit of a problem
yes, he would be round shortly
waved Chris towards an easy chair

I sat at my desk, trying to look like there
were more important things to do.

Chris was like a young man in a waiting room
slightly stretched out
looking at the ceiling
occasionally drumming his finger on the
side of the green pvc armchair
scratched the nylon loop carpet

When dad arrived, fit young and friendly,
we three took up our roles
well I have to say he's good at home
aren't you? - little shrug 'n smile
yes he's helpful, just the two of us,
he even cooks sometimes
his mother walked out on us
he doesn't really remember

yes, this is how it goes.
Fine at home, but every so often
I get called up to school
Isn't that right? - little shrug 'n smile

there was a bolster on the bed
I was always on her side
and her side was near the door

the eiderdown was lighter
but warmer
and I would feel a curl and
run it round my finger

morning he had gone
she was back from the bathroom
slapping herself behind with
a little wry laugh

there were two corsets one
for ordinary days a newer one for
Sundays and there was a medal with
a large safety pin
and she must have showed me how the
suspenders worked because I knew

the big wardrobe had an oval
mirror like a clear pool of water
i could see myself in the
bottom bit but when i looked there
was nothing behind

OK Chris, you obviously get on with your dad. You are a fine young man with lots and lots of potential. Your dad and I know you can do well. So how about it - are you going to try?

yeh yeh I suppose

So I'll see you later home for tea...
Little shrug 'n smile - and sits
up a little straighter in his chair.

End Of An Umpire

Joe was taking cricket after school. I
went to look 'n he asked if I could give
a hand - "me? I know nothing about cricket."
"That's OK I'll do most of it, if you
do square leg?" And anyway it was
just a casual knock on the asphalt.

The boys arrived laden with gear -
Ansell, Julien, Derek, Bovell 'n a
little troupe all Black 'n happy outside.
Joe asked "Who's for bat or bowl?" And every
one knew. Neil - who was forever in trouble-
bounced up 'n down "Sir! Bat AND Bowl, Sir!!"
"Do we have a wicket keeper?" Yes, Neil
was that as well.

So I stayed quiet and left it all to Joe,
concentrated on not looking too dumb.
They played with joy 'n easy grace, a laugh
whenever a hit landed on the roof.
Neil went in to bat, hit two 'n then
missed 'n the ball hit his pad 'n even
I knew LBW so I pointed at the sky.

Neil slumped his shoulders, unbuckled the pads.
On they played until 5 o'clock, put away
the stuff and off home still in the sunshine.
As Joe and I went up Kingsland Road we
chatted away 'n then he mentioned a by
the way, casually, quietly, gently, from
the corner of his mouth, "when the batsman
attempts a stroke he can't be LBW".

I was horrified - Neil should have had
a screaming fit! "But no one said anything!"
"The boys know their cricket - they know
in cricket the umpire is ALWAYS right."

belaboured party 6th september 2006

a painful right hand.
try the mouse with the left
[microsoft makes it easier to switch].
felt like a broken right arm.
tried a glass of wine on the right
[just to balance things out, you understand];
but after a little break,
mouse and glass were on the left.
maybe foot was right after all.

New Toads

they were there this morning
under the dustbin
two entwined toads
tony 'n gordon
though i could
be wrong
about
one

Love On A Tray

Joby was only six
early sunday morning
he took a tray upstairs
a cup of tea for Mum
a glass of lager for Mike

sorting the sock drawer

one pair with kangaroos, grey
a present from oz - becky?
one pair, black, father christmas
ye gods, that was islington

five for the price of two, dome
that's mandy, best left alone
one bright red with stripes across
one black and white - squares?

yes, give those to learning and crime
we can call it "joined up working"
show that we mean business this time
with rupert's help 'n a pair of those
no one will notice i'm not wearing clothes

Transferable Skills

It was a struggle to lift it
onto the dining room table. I
could hardly believe it was called
an OLIVER typewriter: something be
tween a printing press and a mech
anical piano.

When the exercises got a bit
boring I learned to type "Once
upon a time" and "In the beginning
there were" thinking they may be
useful in the future.

So when Michelle threw the big office
typewriter in my direction I managed
to sort of catch it and shuffle it onto
a desk. She seemed even more angered by
that and shouted "I hate this fucking
place" - well the children's home
did have to get her up early and there
was a meeting with her alcoholic
mother that day. I shouted back "Well
tough luck because we fucking like you".

As I shouted it - but not as loud as
she had - it sounded a bit contrived to
me, but she gave me an odd look and
calmed down quite a bit.

Valerie

Even when away from her school
Valerie looked immaculate
pleated navy skirt, light blue shirt
different tops but always matching
just like her smile and trainers

she never stopped smiling and her
feet twitched in those trainers

I worked with the older boys upstairs
and Valerie was there
in the middle of a game of tabletennis
there was a bang from the back windows
Valerie was outside standing on the window
ledge with the sash shut and those
trainers were dancing about

I gave a cheery wave now and then
after what seemed a very long time
Valerie rejoined us
I asked Tony to put some stronger
blocks on the sash windows

when we had our little parents day
Valerie came with her dad
he was smaller than her and a
bit tired and old looking and
you could see that she loved her dad
and she was smiling, a little more quietly,
and her feet were still twitching, quietly.

Hairs On The Back Of The Neck

David arrived for his first day
when I was out

His head leant on his arm writing
One of the others had given him a form
to fill in - something safe - and he
did look vulnerable with his head down
fair skinned sort of Black mixed-race

The little school was quiet and I was
relaxed, glad to be back, confident
Hello you must be David
He lifted his head looked at me and
said Fuck Off
Unusual but no big deal and I gave
a little shrug and walked on like
no matter

The strange thing was when he looked
up at me the hair on the back of my
neck stood up
I had read the cliche of course
it's never happened since

When he stabbed a little asian man
to death in front of his even more little
wife
"to see if he would bleed"
a newspaper said how after he was
sentenced to twenty-eight years
he shouted to the judge to
Fuck Off

So I was right not to take it
personally
but the hairs on the back of the neck
bit still makes me wonder

Amen

I don't claim credit for this
My brother or sister passed it on
It doesn't have the class of
The Assyrian coming down like the wolf on the fold
But you could see it
In front of you
And there is a whiff of irreverence
To go with the bacon and cabbage


Amen means
So be it
A half a loaf
A thrupenny bit
Four men
Six feet
Walking down
O'Connell Street
Shouting out
Pigs bum
Four-and-six-a-pound

Rooms - 1

the 8 bus and curiosity
suggested looking at rooms off
Kilburn High Road where pigeons
strutted puffed up on dried puke

three grey beds and a cooker
pure white fat in the frying pan
brown cloths pinned on the windows
a stack of suitcases some scattered
clothes and plastered boots
on top of the fish eye tv
a curling diploma for 3rd place in Latin
American Dancing, Thomastown, Kilkenny

and the grey tea-brown poem that ends with
"There is a land that is fairer than this."

A Lesson Learned

Sean McDermot Steet was like a bomb site
North Strand Tech was on crutches but
both on one side
                        to
                        stop
                        it
                        falling
                        over

Pedro was the smallest in the class he had
a yellow top 'n could talk like Donald Duck
n' he talked a lot like Donald Duck

later as they all were sort of writing I
happened to come up behind him in mid-quack
'n gave his head a little twack with
Lamb's Tales From Shakespeare
he jumped out of his seat
across the room
and head first out of the open window

what floor is this?
but when I looked down he was sitting
just a few feet
below
on
the gravel looking at me and shaking
his head but he did stop quacking so we
both learned something

Great Expectations

Sam Levinson had precancerous skin,
horn rimmed specs, check sports jacket,
grey flannel trousers,polished shoes
and a very South African accent.
A good salary was necessary [with a
South African accent] to make
it worth his while teaching and his
wife wanted to live in St. John's Wood.

Derek, the pupil, had dark brown black skin,
navy school blazer, grey flannel trousers,
good eyesight and a very West Indian accent.
He was determined to study hard so that
he could get a good job.

In between games of tabletennis,
Derek was doing his homework. He had
to write a description of an accident.
He grinned and said it was easy - he had
seen two cars crash into each other
that very same lunchtime.

Even from afar, I could see his writing
was a bit scrunched up. So as casually
as I could, I told him:
If you want to get a good mark,
keep your sentences short;
use full stops and capital letters;
start a new line when someone talks;
and put in lots of detail, like the names
of the roads and makes of cars.

Derek went off with a big smile.
He carefully tore the page out.
He started again.
This time he sat down.

On Thurday, I asked Derek how he
had got on with his English homework.
He said Mr Levinson took a look,
ran his finger over his earlier marks,
said Derek had got someone else to
do his work - so he was giving Derek
zero marks [with a South African accent].

What's the difference between Thatcher and Blair?

Thatcher - sold off the 'family silver'and went to war;
Blair - raw ot tnew dna 'revlis ylimaf' eht ffo dlos

[I refute that completely and utterly. PFI ensures essential longterm investment in high quality public services for this country. As for war, at no point did the United States of America have any interest whatsoever in the Falkland Islands - T.]

Back In Time

The dashboard navigator said nothing
About red poppies by the A41
Headed west for Wales and Holyhead
And the sterile smoke 'n puke free ferry
Shudders on a radioactive sea

A tubby black guy selling newspapers
Bottle of water dangling from his belt
Jinge jangle on the Royal Canal bank
aged four I dropped a purse with ten coppers down the toilet
My sister fished it out with the black fire tongs
Now she is pleased with her new laptop
New houses sprout by the hundreds where once
Wheat and potatoes grew and so did I

Lace curtained celtic tigered microsoft
Mist shrouds the silted up fishing harbour
Though the sun sets still behind the mountains
Really only hills around the flat bogs
And networks of stone walls flung right across
To cappuccino’d Galway and the Aran Islands
The man with a bike a bull two cows and a calf
Walking along the road the judge said if
He did it again he'd be thrown in jail
And wasn't that Earl Mountbatten bombing
Dreadful and he flying the union jack
And the yellow house with the wild flower grass
Was as far as the broadband went this time

My brothersisternephew six foot five
Tore into Israel after the steak why
Did the USA do that sort of thing
I chipped in Barenboim's young orchestra
Sewage from the Israeli settlement
Flows down the Palestinian children
Play in it well they have to go somewhere
A hurried cup of tea 'n see you soon
The woman in the black top files her nails
Anglesey swells over the bow windows again

School Playground

See: Make the top exams more difficult.
Saw: Only the brightest pupils would pass.
See: Raising standards.
Saw: Fewer going to university
See: More failing schools.
Saw: Lowering standards.
Margery: Daw!

iGod

A blinding flash struck me this afternoon
On the road back from Dalston
In the form of a spoof on an ‘iGod’
- solo use or networking
- downloadable add-ons
- multi faith
- skinnable [I liked that bit]
Lots of possibilities
Yes, something to work on
But when I got home I searched on Google
And it’s been done before...
Sold like hot cakes in Scotland and of course
God old U.S.A. was up for a few thousand
Is nothing sacred these days?
Maybe – try searching for ‘Goddle’?

Soul

Walked into London today
Thinking about ‘soul’
Music or religion
Religion, religion and religion
Joined at the base, so to speak

Turned into Chancery Lane
Little old lady exiting sprightly backwards
From a friendly fresh sandwich shop
She was laughing
Really laughing
There was soul there

Lincolns Inn Fields tennis courts
Were deserted
There were yellow vested men
Sitting sipping their drinks
A fearful grey lady
A blue suited man
But soul there

Deliciously expensive patisserie
Elderly leathered motorbike rider
Well displayed bookshop
Empty public toilet – in this day and age
Male and Female ends
Red quarry tiles
An exiting parking attendant, large, black
Grateful to pee, in peace with the world

Thirty years ago a nice sunny day
An old colleague invited me
To see his collection of First Editions
So I did
And they were
Shelved in a large basement
Air-conditioned
A little on the chilly side for reading
His wife produced
Spaghetti with a meat and tomato sauce
Followed by Compton Street coffee
All carefully filtered
Lovely apart from the basement of books
Which had their souls sucked out

Like Wapping High Street
Where the soul has gone
For now

Education Edukation Educkashon

testing
the air pressure
does not pump up the tyres

sorry about the sarcasm

oh come on now europe
get your fingers out
poor israel 'n u.s.a have done the hard work
billions of dollars worth of bomb damage in lebanon
all you have to do is build it up again

'n you need to send more troops to lebanon
they may get shot 'n bombed by israel
but it won't be premeditated you understand
so come on this is really urgent

Let's Start

Let’s start a world revostruction
White teeth not gold
Water not sold
Bling in the bin by the door

Lets start a world consolution
Truth not lies
Condoms not death
Life worth living for free

How about mass distribulution
Wind-up politics
United nations
Free range bananas and bread

Confine weapons of distruction
Bring back teaching
Poetry not grunge
Music not wailing greed

Bring out the dinner men
Rectify correctness
And the filthy rich
Can wash up as well

Food Diplomacy

i well remember school lunch that day
rice, mashed potato and cauliflower cheese
but for afters we played tabletennis
and joe said i must come round that evening
meet valerie and have a beer 'n dat sort a ting

back on the northern line - dalston junction
up the flight of concrete steps
swishing red buses 'n cars
anticipating beers, decided to line my tummy

with time to spare a chinese place fed me
special pork chow mein and chicken fried rice

joe's dark basement flat was near the market
lights and gas fire were burning
little mervyn hid behind the settee grinding his teeth
reluctantly said good night and then bed

the huge fridge-freezer hummed in the corner
joe ate from a huge pyrex bowl and i being
a visitor ate from a large patterned plate

val made many trips to the kitchen spiced
baked chicken, pork, rice 'n peas; but when
the heaps of coo-coo appeared i had to tell
all to joe when val was out getting more

so every time val went in the kitchen
joe scooped food from my plate into his
so with those sorts of skills 'n generosity
little wonder he is a high commissioner
tho' his suit is tight 'n neck disappeared

orchid

square bright bathroom window
squat round glass bowl
spongey seaweedy brown moss
large dark green oval leaves
silver roots finger the air
sustain three pale lilac faces
carefully calculated angles
hanging from living gantries
sniffing and feeling our world

there somewhere

freedom is there somewhere
in between
tick and tock
talking and fighting
mad and sane
sans frontieres and nationalistic
fervour and serene
belief and blank
despair and life
hereafter and nothing
doing and thinking
black and pale
male and female
somewhere there is freedom

jazz cafe

blood-shot chef fumed tony slipped a
whole fish pie to emma on the door
bartenders polished brasswork
with rented snow white towels
paperless till system crashed
plastic buckets awaited coins ‘n notes
bespoke steel stools bared razor flanges
matching tables revealed rust spots
cellar toilets overflowed the floor
dynorods invoice provoked a blockage
the heavy duty ice machine dispensed
six cubes overnight no one believed
derek the whippet caretaker who had kids
all over the place finished the jack daniels

the recon convection oven went on
strike aided and abetted by the food
lift snapping a cable you could see
‘n smell the sticky mess in the shaft
the agent wanted paying before a
special shipment back to ireland
treble supreme of chicken lay in pans
out into next door’s yard with piles of
dirty cloths ‘n aprons the gathering
throng stretched down parkway

“we could do with a few flowers on the
tables” give me strength the air
conditioner has never ever worked

but when the place filled to a stand
still ‘n even the fire gangway right over
the drums was lined with three rows
holding lemonsegmentedstoppered sol
‘n becks ‘n shredded smoked chicken,
the lighting dimmed, abdullah
sat long robed back at the steinway,
firmly stroked the keys ‘n sounds
that seemed like african markets, sun
‘n rivers washed magic round my ears

GUANTANAMO AIRLINE

Body searches
No personal baggage
FIVE YEARS!

Latest Amnesty Numbers

Last Post

so
this
maymean
mabe
mayhem
god
is
a
motherfucker
well, you know,
in a manner of
speaking
praying
braying
crowing
crooning
blowing
andwithalongandlingeringblasttothealmighty
butwithfeeling
from here to eternity
[and they don't make movies like that anymore]
amen

Reply To An Alien

This was originally prompted by a post, Letter From An Alien, on poetry into the light

Dear Nonplussed,

I note from your letter that you are an alien. I presume this means you are from another planet.

For the last few years, we on Planet Earth have been going through a funny patch. We have an area which we call the United States of America. Although it is a great country with lots of terrific inhabitants, it is currently led by a number of men who have a lot of what we call money.

On Earth, the idea of money started off with an exchange of useful goods between people, especially surplus food: pigs, chickens, cows, vegetables and so on. Men were considered rich if they had more than they needed for themselves – they could pay poorer men, women and children to work for them by giving them excess food in return for their labour. It soon became apparant that excess meat and vegetables began to smell if they were not eaten in good time. So instead of the actual goods, people began to use coins made of rare metals as counters instead of the actual items being exchanged.

Some people became greedy and started to use the coins for bad purposes. They also looked for ways of taking coins from others. They guarded things which could be exchanged for coins – coal, oil, food, wood, clothes. They also looked for people who were not used to coins and would do lots of work for a small number of coins – or sometimes just for food. This continues up to this day.

The people with lots of coins to spare also use them to have other people clean their houses and streets. Sometimes they use the coins to pay people to just talk with them or copulate with them. Really sad people just like having more coins than anyone else for the sheer hell of it. They even print pieces of paper and call them coins so as to make out they have more money than they really have. This is why you have areas of Planet Earth which claim to be rich even though there are lots of people with not even enough coins to buy sufficient meat, bread or vegetables to eat.

People who live in the areas of Planet Earth which have fewer coins and not enough to eat often feel bad. Sometimes they just lie down and die, but some get very angry and want to fight. Sometimes they fight themselves. Sometimes they fight others – the people next door, people with a different coloured skin, or people who just behave differently from them. At times they get so angry they blow themselves up – and blow others up as well. There are times when we call these people soldiers though people who do not like them increasingly call them terrorists. When the terrorists or soldiers win we call them leaders or politicians. Some people do not like fighting, so they become leaders or politicians by using things called votes. A vote is bit like a token which a person allocates to someone else if they want him or her to be their leader.

For further information on money, there are a number of reputable sources including Guardian Money and the BBC’s Money Box programme. Reliable information on voting and the results of it is harder to come by as the sources of information are controlled by the people who have last been given the most votes. You should be aware there is no morning after pill for people who have used their vote incorrectly – it can take up to five years for a vote to wear off.

Holy Terror

Jimmy didn’t know what the other
Lads thought of him but there was
One thing he could do he was a
Crack shot with a slingshot

They even trusted him to shoot
Little pebbles on the roofs to shoo
Pet racing and tumbling pigeons
So that they would fly down at night

In his pocket Jimmy had a couple
Of glass marbles they went straighter
Than an pebble like when they were
Sitting on the grass near the sea front

“Bet you can’t hit the telegraph pole
From here” so Jimmy took out a marble
Allowed a bit for the breeze you could see
It swirl and curve and then “Thwack!” it hit

While his head felt giddy Declan came out
With “It would be harder to hit a moving car”
The other marble was out and Jimmy thought
Of Biggles he knew to shoot well ahead

Allow for the breeze and height and way
Way ahead you could see it swerve and
Curve as marble and glass met each other
“CRACK!” Jesus the man leapt out

“Oi!!YOU!!!” and they up and running in
Different directions Jimmy right through
Cregan's garden past the Church heaving
Lungs up Barrack Lane forehead on his bed

“God let me off this one I’ll be
Goodforever” with his blood pumping
In his ears no wonder his father said
He was a Holy Terror and just as well
Tanks didn’t rumble down their streets

waiting for godot

ot
do
what?

Forget It

Ipods ‘n new stuff like that
Have batteries which don’t
Suffer from a ‘memory effect’
When u charge them up they
Pick up from whatever point ‘n
Jus’ take it from there like not
Getting stuck in the past
If we can do this for batteries
Why not have a go with the
World’s more modern leaders?

The One About The Curate And The Boat

Tuesday’s fishing boats were due so
We set off for the harbour maybe a
Few free mackerel or whiting the Da called
Whiting the chicken of the sea

By the yacht club just a house really
Jimmy had his boat upended said he was
Giving it a good clean and varnish
So we looked at him working away

The new curate pale pink ears sticking out
Came up behind us little cough and a pause
A fine afternoon and yes we heard it again
Giving it a good clean and varnish

So Sunday next we had a long sermon
Giving it a good clean ‘n varnish god ‘n ballyhoo
As usual the new curate went on far too long
So I’d better stop.

An Eye For A Knife

When Joe at the desk in front
Finished paring his pencil in Science
He passed me my knife back blade first
See the scar on my left forefinger

Brother Malachy, short fat ‘n round
Took me up front by the blackboard
“Lift it up high – see it stops
Lower it below the heart – it starts”

We collected knives – usually penknives
Though Tom’s mother said a sheath knife was
Safer than a letter opener – if you fell
It could run you right through

It was harder to throw heavy penknives
But we played “splits” and there was a knack
There were single and double blades
And ones with all sorts of gadgets

Brother Cuthbert had a slim white knife
Sharp for taking geranium cuttings
He said the best make was by James Barber
Sheffield steel from Capel Street by the Liffey

William Brown wanted the one with
The blade for taking stones from a horse’s hoof
And Swallows and Amazons had clasp knives
Even Roger who was younger than me

And Damilola Taylor was stabbed
With a broken bottle ‘n thug boys
Maybe as well as taking stuff away
We need to give some things back to children

argos catalogue

the argos catalogue
bigger than ever
3000 extra lines
over 1700 pages
illustrated in full colour
between PDAs and pedal bins
no entry for peace

Fox News

Early this morning
Brer Fox invaded my garden
Stretched and scratched himself

And the lawn – poor dry scorched earth

Brer Fox thinks he owns the garden
Maybe it’s the pond
Assorted little frogs, toads
And slugs in the damp patches

My finger on the window trigger
Fox looked slyly half my way
Scattered with family left and right
Disappeared for the rest of the day

But whatever Brer Terrapin,
Brer Blair, Brer Bush, Brer God
Believe Brer Fox will be back tomorrow

Dead Rats In The Ice Box

Two dead rats neatly wrapped
In white cardboard boxes
The sort cream cakes come in

"Oh that's OK" smiled Sally
She was a 'counsellor' you understand
And grudging science teacher
In the little school for
'bad' children

One of the defrosted rats
Male
Made a lesson for the boys
Scalpel in the left hand
Tweezers in the right
Pinching tweaking
"This is the penis"
"These are the testicles"
Lifting twisting the dead tissue
With deft considered nips

"Can we see the she rat?"
"Maybe another day"
Another day never came
The rats were thrown away
Sally wasn't but left
And moved on to older men

Hoodie

Met a hoodie today
A real one not a designer
Conservative or New Labour one
He had two hoods, red blotched face
Spoke up looked me in the eye
Doesn’t like Art but
Likes Painting & Decorating
Mopeds and car mechanics
Long ago he cooked lasagne
Said his elderly looking father
And needs to improved his reading
Introduced them to his social
Worker none of us had met before
I shook his hand hoped to see him soon
His head swept swiftly briefly round
Like a submarine periscope
As he walked away and out

A Leader We Can Count On?

"At a Downing Street reception not long ago, a guest had the temerity to ask Tony Blair: "How do you sleep at night, knowing that you've been responsible for the deaths of 100,000 Iraqis?" The Prime Minister is said to have retorted: 'I think you'll find it's closer to 50,000'."

John Kampfner, Blood On His Hands, New Statesman, August 2006
Read it here.

Photo Shoot

OK OK

So far, we have done:

1. Naked Screaming Little Girl Running Down Road
2. Vietcong Having Bullet Fired Into Head
3. Father Carrying Dead Boy
4. Father Cradling Dead Girl
5. Assorted And Various Crying Adults
6. Adults Digging In Rubble
7. Pretty Dead Children In Wheelbarrow

Anyone out there any suggestion?
What do we need to hold people's attention
Maybe a little more shock and awe??
Is anyone following this?

There is a good one here
WORDS only

Love Or Hate Maths

For Hate read Minus
For Grateful read Less Than
For Respect read Equals
For Love read Unpredicatable

In Human Relativity
Mandela is equal to,
Or more than,
Einstein

If Mandela met Einstein
He would wear a shirt with
E=mc²
Is there a mathematical term for
Puts Present World Leaders To Shame?

None So Blind As Cannot Shut Up And Think

Dot Cotton Eastenders did it for me
Referring to headless chickens you see
Flapping squacking with little or no thought
Processing words without any meaning
Make it look like you are doing something
Be active not passive avoid being still
Yo – eat as you go – if you need chew bread
Keep on the move and look like you’re busy

Targets to meet and meet by the minute
Emails to write and spreadsheets to figure
Invest in people gross without interest
In anything but what’s straight ahead
To be sped at shouted at left for dead
Wham bam disunificationised world
Eats shoots and leaves trickle down from the trees

Taken On Trust

[I got round to reading Terry Waits' account of his time as hostage in Beirut 1987 - 1991. 1,763 days in captivity, mostly in solitude]

Church of England is a professional body
a bit like the British Medical Association
Terry refers to other Christian religions
which are different in style

World Service BBC worth supporting
Treasure pleasures like food, fresh air
Looking at the changing sky
Appreciate little changes in life
Cockroaches, Popes, Archbishops

References to God, Jung, Christ
Prayer and mediation
Look after your teeth

John McCarthy & Brian Keenan
Seem to have done well
Enjoyed An Evil Cradling

Blogging

When I was little
My mother bought
A pressure cooker

It took a long time to boil
When the valve at the top
Screamed with steam
Like a train in the kitchen
She knocked it off
With a slap

If she got it just right
It chugged along nicely
With just the occasional spurt
And the pot roast was just right

There were all sort of plans
For meals in one pan
But they fizzled out

I wonder
About blogging
'n poetry 'n all that

Three Simple Facts

The USA
Cannot control
Israel
But tries not to let on

Blair
And his ‘New Labour’
Suck up to
The filth rich
‘n the filthy powerful

Terrorism
is a vague ‘n clumsy term
One man’s terrorist
Is another man’s freedom fighter
For example
ANC in South Africa
Sterne Gang in Israel

Poetry Not Crosswords

I try to write poetry
But some days
I don't have a clue

More Diplomacy, Please

Those of us who like red wine
Could meet up with
Vodka-and-orange drinkers
Very nearly producing
A right old Bloody Mary

Guinnessed pint types
Rough it in Champagne
But end in a smooth finish

Irish [and Scotch!] Whiskey
Can get along with sobering coffee
No problem, almost instantly.

Can we have a go with
Bishops and pork chops
Women and avocado butter
Engines and sugar
West Indian Gin
And kicks just for fun?

All beefed up with
A sense of hummus?

Anyone else for tea?

Porno Site

Re: your suggestion for a porno site:
Lets go no further into that good night.
Wood Green had five stabbings last Friday:
Sharp blades punched through shirts, skin, flesh, and sinew.
Some of them must have laughed and felt warm blood,
Flowing and congealing on knife and hand.
Blood sticks, gets stickier, forms into clots.
Guns are easier.
The other night I was watching tv
Chopping some carrots but happened to see
Nice black teenager, track suit, roller blades,
Stop look and shoot lead into the heaving chest
Of someone who could have been a brother or friend.
So who needs porno sites, we have them now.

My Dad

Though in what seems like a different world
My Dad sounds like your dad.
He took me and my brother aside one day,
Which was a big thing.
What was he going to say?

“Drop the odd ‘Sir’ now and then”
Well, I have ignored that.

“Keep in touch with the lads”
By this he meant keep going to the pub
Even after you have married/settled down
- This was something HE didn’t do.

“Look after Number One”
Which was good coming from HIM
- He looked after our Mammy,
Though she sometimes forgot that

He also looked after numbers
Four, Three, Two – and me.
So ‘Thank You’, Dad
For looking after ‘numero uno’

Yo Blair

UN delays peacekeeping action
....
A Downing Street spokesman, travelling with the prime minister in California, said Mr Blair was "disappointed" by the UN decision.
Guardian, 31st July 2006

Well, how would you like it, Mr Blair, if you were shelled all day and then bombed into oblivion.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/israel/Story/0,,1831067,00.html

Israel & Middle East

A clear and powerful piece by Gerald Kaufman today. He refers to "ultimate buffoons like Ehud Olmert and George Bush" - he could have added Tony Yo-Yo Blair to the list.
http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/gerald_kaufman/2006/07/kaufman.html

iBlair

you know when you hear too much noise
round the little speakers in your ears
so you turn up the volume

well that’s what Blair does
turns up the screams ‘n thuds of war
no need to stop the fun

“Being lifted above the throng by war was an exhilarating experience for Blair. He responded physically, sleeping even less than before and plunging with gusto into hours of military planning meetings and conversations with other leaders. His Cabinet thought him leaner, hungrier, tougher….He was more like the obsessed power-manipulator, convinced of his mission and impatient with the fainthearts….Blair was certainly in the grip of a powerful belief and although prey to the worries that come with war was enjoying himself hugely”.
James Naughtie, Rivals Blair and Brown: The Intimate Story of a Political Marriage [Fourth Estate, 2001]

History

history
is
a
thing
of
the
past
which
tells
us
about the future

Global Chess

White pawn to K4
Black pawn to Q8
White arms to Iraq
Black to Q5
White – De Clerk
Black - Mandela
White knight takes pawn
Black bishop takes gay bishop
White bishop condemns
Black knight condoms
Israel takes high settlements
Palestinians live in shit
White ‘en passant’
Black 9/11
White Orthodox defence
Black self-detonates
White - castles
Black - resigns

“Computer: replay, reverse sides”.
“Error: insufficient memory -
press to restart”.

triangulation of ignorance

for the record
in a 3 sided square
bible
koran
torah
the sum of the arguments
on any 2 sides
is equal to that on side B

Religion

I’ve had it up to here with
God and the Devil
Enough
To laugh me a last time