Bonnie Madleen

I first had the idea for this song / poem on hearing the news about the good ship Madleen, setting out for Gaza.

Thunberg and her crewmates were not “deported” from Israel, as reported in the biased media, they were released after the Madleen and her crew were illegally abducted to Israel, and her cargo stolen.

The so-called “personalities” - several failed “comedians” amon...

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Fucking hypocrites

Fucking liars, fuck the truth,

Fuck morality

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BIGOTS MADE LEGLESS

KNEECAPPED BY NOTHING BUT TRUTH

SPRINGTIME FOR FREEDOM

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Fatma Hossana,

her truth, in photos at Cannes,

murdered in Gaza.

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O Trump Derangement, thy name we scorn, A sickness wrought to silence minds, A label placed to quell the born Of thought, whose roots may tear the binds. In wisdom's place, thou offer none— No cure, no hope, no space for air… For every voice who dares to run Against thy crown, thy law, thy glare. How sweet the word "insane" you say— A balm for wounds, a mask for fear. But none shal...

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Is it me? Is it real?
The feelings that I feel…
never seem to match 
the world around me.

What if I’m lost in time,
wrapped up in some sublime 
cosmic poet’s next attempt 
at melancholy?

I don’t ever feel at home,
most times would rather be alone. 
I’m broken, yeah I know
cuz I don’t change things. 

Maybe I’m just out of place,
running long in the wrong race,
or maybe I’m no go...

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A poet with an ego

Thinks he has something to say.

But in reality

He's just getting in the way.

A poet with an ego

Sees his words as powerful tools,

And thinks his name

Will be listed among who's who.

But a poet with a heart that is open

Gets out of the way

And lets the truth speak.

 

(Note - the use of "he" is generic for he/she/me).

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In defiance of the forces that manipulate and suppress, this poem calls for an "uprising" to defend truth and our freedom of speech, against the forces of censorship, fake news and misinformation led by Musk, Trump and his rebellious, subversive henchmen. Musk’s efforts to restrict or abolish "Community Notes" threaten the very foundation of truth and free expression on his platform  threat...

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Who knows 

how many 

layers

over

generations 

have been 

used. 

 

Sprayed on, 

and caked on, 

and smeared on

thick

for the purpose 

of covering

the truth. 

 

Oh ye who

through the ages 

have done this,

though 

your layers

be deep,

know this -

 

that the truth 

will break though. 

Not a thing

you can do. 

For all

...

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I believed, because we believe all the time.
We believe in the structures around us,
in what we were taught, in the promises made to us.
I believed in what was given to me as certain,
in love that is, at the same time, a bond and a prison.

But time, that relentless teacher,
showed me that truth is plural,
that certainties fade away,
that the world is complex,
and that true freedom comes...

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This poem tries to explore the personal and societal consequences of living under a prospecitve dictatorship, where the truth is silenced, and freedom of the press is crushed. Through the fate of figures like Jim Acosta, the poem reflects on the heavy price of speaking out against tyranny and the loss of voice in a world where obedience reigns. A stark warning of what happens when dissent is erase...

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The Berlin Holocaust Memorial is stark.

For the Tool though, those Stelae made a brilliant backdrop

to his ‘Twenty-Two election publicity lark;

The Shoa, he reduced to a pantomime prop,

Behind you, behind you! Look, Sir, it’s the …!

 

At Auschwitz yer man is on ‘Twenty-Five’s photo-shoot,

The strain in his face, act studiously honed

to show that he cares, oh, look at him, ...

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This poem is about a society increasingly divided, where accusations fly and truth seems lost. It speaks to the urgency of listening instead of blaming, understanding instead of judging, and choosing hope over fear. In a world where opinions are quickly voiced and emotions run high, the poem urges a shift in perspective—one that values connection, love, and the strength to find hope, even in diffi...

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Seek truth and justice.

Absence of war’s mere pretence!

True peace, not pieces.

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"The Fact-Check Paradox" explores the contradiction at the heart of modern fact-checking: while meant to clarify truth, fact-checkers often impose their own interpretations, leaving people uncertain about what’s verified and what isn’t. This creates a paradox where the pursuit of truth may, in fact, cloud independent judgment. The poem tries to emphasise the need for individuals to think for thems...

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attacking my integrity

questioning… me

myself,

I, was taught there was no such thing as a stupid question

second guessing…

why?

you were impolite.

looking for answers in an inner view

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I don’t want to mask my poetry

I want you to understand me

Curse your perfect rhythms, rhymes, haikus

Your lyricism, your literary

When I try to adopt it, I turn mute.

Something channels through me

(I’ve never really found the root)

A demanding stream of consciousness

That cannot stop to breathe, let alone

Wait, conceptualise, draft, redraft

I can’t!

...

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The title of my sonnet is inspired by that of the excellent 1995 film, Land and Freedom, directed by eminent film director, Ken Loach, persecuted in the UK and elsewhere for his compassionate socialist views.

With reference to my last six lines: the terrorist murder in 1946 of British soldiers, of Jews and others should not be forgotten in the rush to attempt to justify the seven-decades-long ...

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It’s time to say NO!

It’s time to turn left,

To staunch the blood flow,

Of truth they’re bereft,

 

It’s time for the many,

To stand up to the few,

To liars ten-a-penny,

To red ties turned blue,

 

You’re a friend of apartheid

You’ve just lied to this nation,

You enabler of genocide,

And illegal occupation,

 

The targets weren’t civilian,

Your pants ar...

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Ah, to suffer,
is not just an invisible burden
that we drag through the streets of life.
It is the mark, the scar,
of existence that shapes us.

To suffer is the pain
that teaches us to see the world
with weary eyes,
where reality is not a straight line
but a labyrinth of thorns and hopes.

In the deep silence of the night,
where the moon whispers secrets of pain,
we find the echo of...

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at times I find myself
with insight
into my third eye
the inward perception
of crystalline tears
holding onto emotions
looking for one thing

The truth

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The way I see the world

Maybe be different from someone else

The reality i perceive

Depends on myself

 

My beliefs and dreams

May chance my perception

My story and my experiences 

May cause a deception

 

The reality may be real

The reality may be objective

But what I'm able to see

May very well be subjective

 

It doesn't matter if i saw

A mountain or...

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Dewy lotuses, 
grow in the dark -
creating an entangling —
Flower of Life …

nature and everything — we know — has its roots
on the grounds of truth
indeed…
every family tree,
needs...
a tree house.

Habitats for Humanity  

There is a lone wolf
which is black,
and blue,
in the eyes :
whom sees the world differently
depending on —
whether or not you’re 
— on his or her good or...

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Seconds tick as years go by,

both the same to me.

Time and space be mere illusions...

nothing’s as it seems.

  

Like the wind, we’re drifting on

through endless spiral dreams.

Every sense be our delusion...

nothing’s as it seems.

  

As a lad I’d sit and wonder

how it came to be.

Found they keep truth asunder...

nothing’s as it seems.

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Run

as fast as you can.

Red shades of dismal

flowing fear

melt to the glass of sand.

 

Hide

in the hollow hidden dry.

Drink down the spell

of earth and hell

indifferent to the sky.

 

Lie

forever un-seamed.

Face down amidst

the death of sound,

black holes of melody.

 

Sleep

to the blood of setting sun.

From spiral dreams

look down at ...

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A million things swimming around in my head.

Things I could say that should never be said.

 

Things I could tell that you’d never believe.

Things that I’ve seen that are too far to see.

 

Things that I’ve heard that are not made of sound.

Things that I know which have never been found.

 

Things that could change the world. Things that could heal.

Things that would ter...

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Blind keepers,

mind readers,

throw them in the pod. 

Make them think they have a way

to see through all the fog. 

 

Let them start with nothing,

they’ll grow up and think they’ve won. 

Set the stage so from the play 

they’ll add things one by one.

 

They’ll come up with conclusions

thinking they’ve figured it out,

and all the while just watch them

cuz that...

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Got circles in my mind,

but words don’t help me find,

so I stare at the world to watch it spin.

Got circles in my mind,

in the pond of space and time

I cast in stones to make the waves begin.

 

Thoughts weaving through the universe,

I always wonder which is worse -

to understand or think you do when blind?

It seems to me the polls are in

with ignorance a lock to wi...

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https://youtu.be/iTV6F3lTU7o

The accompanying video is of Emma Kirkby (an old family favourite of ours) singing “Dido’s Lament”  by Henry Purcell. It’s one of the saddest pieces of English music I’ve ever heard, and so, is most appropriate.

I’ve modelled my poem around Dylan Thomas’ “Do not go gentle into that good night”, on the premise that the night we currently face is not, in any sense ...

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Once in a while I hear words that just grab me.

Most times I let ‘em go by, but some get past me.

Seconds turn into hours, so I live in slow motion.

Dive deep into words, words as deep as the ocean.

Things I’ve wanted to say since the day that we parted.

Want to let it all out but…

don’t get me started.

 

Everything spinning round in my mind,

millions of strings I keep ...

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How vast is the reach of the universe wide?

How great be the distance between mind and eyes?

How far in both ways does the length of time go?

What distance exists between God and each soul?

 

Illusive the answer to each of these be.

Perspective controls how we think, what we see,

how we judge and interpret the concepts at hand,

the things we consider and just where we stand...

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Yes, I’m that friend that’s mean but true.

Forever trying to look out for you.

 

I’m that friend that’s firm but fair,

But at the end of each heartbreak, I’m always there.

 

I’m that friend that will constantly scold you to see,

That you’re not being the best you that you can be.

 

I’m that friend that calls you a fool;

When you let everyone else use you like a broken...

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To a Fellow Artist

 

It’s often asked: wherein does beauty lie,

In mystery bound, proportions magical,

Deciphered only by the observer’s eye,

Or in some poet’s words deemed lyrical?

I know that beauty’s not in sparkling dross,

Perfection is for fools; an empty frame,

In masterpieces, lines are found and lost,

And here, in life’s chiaroscuro lives a flame,

A caring smi...

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Why are we offended by other people's truths?

Our ego shooketh to it's core

Feelings Bruised? like we'e been battered by an ore

Raw, words come spilling out like a kid in a candy store begging for more!

Why does their truth feel like someone telling us to imitate a dog standing on all fours...panting and all!

Or is it that we don't know who we truly are at our core

Pretending to ...

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Man of my dreams

I wish it could be as it seems

 

Perfect in every way

 

each day

better than the last

 

But I know from the past

 

who you are 

and who I am

 

I am country

and you are city

 

I am 

campfires, picnics

and drivin-in movies

 

You are 

opera's, symphonies 

and trips to Europe

 

Each time you are near

I am engul...

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Point of View

 

Nothing is beautiful

Not any sunrise

Not any dawn

I don’t believe in beauty

-I don’t believe at all

 

Like me be sceptical

Of everything you’ve been told

If anyone tells me it’s warm outside

-I tend to think it’s cold.

 

Don’t believe the TV news

Don’t believe the people when they tell you things they saw

And if the politicians say it’s ...

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Life can recognise
Caste, religion and colour-
A disease of three symptoms:
Caste is engaged with skirmish,
Religion flares up with sudden
Intensity of furiousness, and
Colour creates dissociation.

None but DEATH is constant:
He never plays the role of an actor,
He never does judge on caste, religion And colour:
He believes that there is no gap
Between the palace and the hut.

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I tried beautiful,

I tried pristine,

I was no good at it

I’m not neat within

I’m not “clean”

Even externally, I cannot master

Clearing every bit of clutter

I’m raw, like an egg

It’s not pretty to have a cracked head

But if I don’t

I’m practically dead

As inanimate and detached as my wooden bed

To be raw is

Painful,

Ugly,

Messy,

But it’s rich with fee...

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For a long time
I was living without living
Hiding within myself
In the world I was dreaming

But I can't dream forever
That's something I forgot
Something I dismissed
While I was deep in my thoughts

And then I woke up
For first time in a while
I got free from the dreams
Where I was in exile

And I cannot describe
The feeling of awakening
The feeling of life
Is breathtaking

A...

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During the American Civil War, which ended in 1866, Walt Whitman worked as a clerk in Washington, DC. For a period of three years, he cared for soldiers, dressing their wounds, and comforting the injured.

His 1865 publication of poetry, Drum-Taps, which drew from his experiences in the civil war, includes, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” Whitman’s elegy for President Lincoln.

I ...

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My love of Beauty, nurtured through the years,     

Of form and fair proportion’s served me well.    

Yet often I ask: where does my true love dwell?   

Within my soul; this heart; these eyes; or ears? 

Does she conduct the music of the spheres? 

Or, sit in silence sweet on Lakeland fell? 

Are roses’ heavenly scent bound by her spell?    

Her spirit surely lives in all...

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I’m sorry to disappoint you

That I can be too sweet and so weak

And yet I can be cold and cruel too

That I can completely snap to my core

And morph into a creature of different sorts

I’m sorry that I’m not white or black

Or immaculate

Or of any matter 

For that fact

I’m not anything 

At all

Not wholly whole

You see,

Incompleteness 

Has been my superpower 

...

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Mis-Match of the Day,

Tories; Truth and Compassion.

Wife-beaters; Knighthoods.

 

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We don’t trust them.
Those giants who rule the Earth;
those fallen ones who stole our dominion.

We don’t trust them.
Those royal descendants of “gods”;
those of the divine blood line.

Why should we trust them?
They live in castles even today,
while we still cower in caves.

Why should we trust them?
From days of old,
we die in their wars,
we beg to consume what they own.

Why sh...

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I remember in poverty,
eating ramen noodles,
daily.

Beans and Weenies.
Meatless sauce
spaghetti.

Rice, Rice, Rice,
without any real
spice.

Bologna Sandwiches.
Hamburger Helper
mixes.

Fried Spam,
and all kinds of meat,
canned.

Hot Dogs on a stick,
burnt to a
crisp.

Catfish from the creek,
yellow belly
meat.

Milwaukee’s Best.
Another broken
promise.

The cheape...

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We’ll drink a drink a drink,

To an empire pink so pink,

The saviours of the human race.

The truth we speak is ever so profound,

We speak the truth in every case.

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Bit of a cockup in original posting -here goes!

Their Favourite Things

 

Teardops they’re shedding; with lies they’ve been smitten,

“Bright sunlit uplands” still promised for Britons,

Brown paper packages, no attached strings,

Those are a few of their favourite things.

 

When reality bites, when the truth stings,
When they’re feeling sad,
They’ll simply remember their fa...

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If there's a need to 

Wake up from a dream 

(If i am in one)

I'll simply close my eyes

And will go to sleep

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Whatever you do. Whatever you say-
The truth shall always out one day.
It shall be seen. It shall be known -
Whether done with others or alone.

It shall be found out. It shall be discovered.
It shall be unravelled and uncovered.
What you've spent. What you've saved,
What you've said and how you've behaved.

How hard you've tried. How much you've learned,
We'll see what you've seized an...

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My dark thinking mind,

I wish it wasn't mine,

Stuck remembering past times,

A twisted cerebral bind,

A day dies everyday,

A night is born everynight,

I look up at the moon and it's bright,

I know it provides it's own light,

Most will laugh and say I'm wrong,

They need to stop smoking out of N.A.S.A.'s bong,

Waiting for them to think will take too long,

My wisdom an...

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