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Oh women
They kill a man
Who could die for them
And die for he
Who could kill them! ///


(A remark by a woman about women )

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Young Tommy didn’t get irony, cross,

he set off with the boneheads and boots

to guard statues of old Winston Churchill.

Signalling intent with their Nazi salutes.

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napowrimo2017day14(75)cherihewironynazisedlprotecting statues?violence

There is a Later Train

This isn't the last train. But the late train

has no quiet cars. If a baby squalls no conductor

shushes her. You must shush her yourself.

The late train has no dining car. So board


this train now, or pack a picnic, your own

tablecloth, napkins, napkin-rings, silver,

porcelain. The late train has no schedule.

Depends on how many girlfriends the brakeman


wants to vi...

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Come Down from the Clouds

Come down from among the Clouds

Come down from among the clouds and seat yourselves.

I will set plates for y'all. There will be no wooden flatware,

no metal cups, certainly no raggedy napkins. The ceramic

made in China, flatware in the USA, tempered glass in 

Argentina, and napkins cut and sewn by a little old colored

lady in Little Rock, Arkansas, while her great granddaughter


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black lives matterpoliticshistoryironysarcasm

Winter's Wolf

The sharp-toothed skirmisher of January past

passes its knives by her cheeks;

the hillside heralds its shredded brown visage,

winter’s wolf howls the bitter conquest of the moors.


The season of concealing crowns and faces,

of cautious feet across the maze of wilted souls

to reach the lone tree, grey lightning petrified in time.

Frozen into the bark are age and time.



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Belief and Knowledge

He believes her to be beautiful beyond compare

She knows him to be as slow as a brain-dead hare

He believes she is a goddess wrought in alabaster

She knows him to be a servile fool under a master

He believes her to be witty, brighter than the sun

She knows him to be one with brains next to none

He believes her to be as precious as the furthest star

She knows him to be as dumb ...

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Happy Valentine's Day

They can now breed blue roses, and breed blue violets too;

Horticultural references don’t quite fit the array of hues.

Yet they are not concerned with, perhaps never knew

Of the silent ones whose spouses leave them black and blue.

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ironydomestic abuse


And the troops go marching proudly by

as she wipes a tear from her weary eyes,

the one that she seeks, she will never again hold

for he died at his post; he was thirty years old.


The colours fly high on a cool autumn breeze

as man and boy march with well practiced ease,

so glad to be home after being so brave,

with flags overhead and not covering their graves.



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ironylossPTSDTRAUMAwar poetry



Here's to all Performing Ranters

The whoopers', and the waving panters

Stuff academics licking asses

Scowling through rose-tinted glasses


Before I get my recompense

What is a 'Poet in Residence'?

A girl who writes

Lives in a tent

Is she a  'Poet With Intent'?


Let's have a workshop.

Make a bid

Then charge the punters all five quid

Liquid lunch and ...

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diversityironymischiefPoets & Performance PoetrySatire

Everyone's a writer these days...

Everyone's a writer 
These days
Poet, playwright, scripted scrawler
5am, cigarette, red wine bawler
Everyone's a writer
These days
It's the craze or just a phase
I don't know
But it seems knee deep in the linen of our lives
And the answer to any creative 
without a clue
who doesn't know what to do 
Or who rides the wave
in a depndent haze
of the ones who script our days
when they ha...

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Fate Accomplished

He was planning to go with his mates to the fair
With the money he’d saved from his newspaper rounds.
He’d promised Leanne that he’d lend her a fiver
She’d promised to sneak out a six-pack of cider.
But crossing the road on the way to the grounds
She got killed by a hit-and-run driver.

He was planning to bike round the Cape of Good Hope
With the money he’d made from a day at th...

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lifedeathironymince pies

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