Inheritance. pic for poem


and so they throw stones

the disadvantaged ones

with one less letter to atone for loss

venting with spleen, milk-shakes and votes

or worse in some cases – battery acid

as the temperature rises in this moment of  time

we are it seems ” gathered here today”

though not harmoniously, not like a congregation

we are disparate and seeking

vocal yet inchoate

the fault lines more evident as time presses

the beauty pageant for votes more desperate

we who pride ourselves on democracy, we sophisticates

as if we were

solid citizens with a mature sense of history

yet we equivocate and murmur, disseminate untruths

pitching for a purpose on the greasy pole and forget

so much of this has gone before and always

in the aftermath – mistakes will glow

are we bigots, ingrates or xenophobes

on this small island so tightly packed?

one and all will  be stained by this moment in time

but those that seek power will be remembered

as trace elements of the fire – furore – uroar

and be gone

bye bye man

bye bye man

under a black felt brim

eyes dark with a candour

that have seen all manner of things

wonder whether they should plead

for clemency or a piece of that notion

that compassion will cure all ills

for in that stare so many fires

have withered on coals

raked over and left cooling till

soft grey ash is swept up on murmurs of

casual air

those whispered endearments

and promises that sustain a heart

that wishes to pump more

than just blood

around the ache of desire

He knows in there

there is no room for mercy

for justice will be implacable

His day is up

and so

under that felt overhang

he has already gone

Hall of Mirrors


Hall of MirrorsDrawn as by duty down a line

Dropping. Scraping the sides of a dark nothing

Viscous. Imagination pulls

At the echo of a colour lost to reason

So into slime the journey churns

Where daylight may be an escape

But I am fascinated by the threat of malevolence

Wherein I,  the author and the victim

Ask why. Why not make this a parody

And set me in a circus of smiles,

Or rich guffaws

But not the gallery of screams that pop

From an arcade of paid for thrills

Why am I, even in my own head

An outsider with dread

Let me please enjoy a loosening of the coils

That seem to constrict my pleasure

Obscure my vision and bring me

Always to the edge of pain

Let me exchange with the man in the booth

Small change for folly and blind excitement

Not the never ending centrifuge of fear

That falls twisting as a mirror to fate