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Juden für Palästina! (Jews for Palestine!)

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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PRESS! Bang Bang, You’re Dead!

Perhaps you’re wondering why you got the sack?

For years now, I’ve not bought our local rag,

not bought the cut and paste of client hacks,

who’d not report on genocide of a nation,

for fear of being murdered on The Strip,  

tell lie on lie, warmongering information,

co-lateral damage? say it’s just a blip,

from Iraq to Gaza, murderous tongues you wag.

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IraqGazaThe Stripgenocidehackswarmongering

Hitler 俳句

Danger, extremists!

Cry genocide enablers,

Springtime for Hitler.



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Dear Mister Stupidly of Braindead...

Dear Mister Stupidly of Braindead,

that genocide is not in my name;

starving babies to death,

your conscience won’t stain,

so I’m asking you, oh very nicely,

pretty please, will you bugger right off;

we’ll protest against murder,

we’ll protest ‘til it stops,

we’ll protest a lot further,

we’ll protest til the fucking penny has dropped,

we’ll protest a lot louder,


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Gutter Press


They claim he died

as act of protest

against the “war”.

Tools of the fascists,

gutter press

they lie and lie

whilst innocents die.

“I will no longer

be complicit

in genocide”,

were his words.

“Free Palestine”

he screamed out

in his agony,

at least three times.

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Was It For This The Clay Grew Tall?

NB. the penultimate line is a quote from war poet Wilfred Owen's "Futility".

HMS Britannia

some years ago,

began bouncing

along the bottom

of turd-strewn

and poisoned

inland waterways

and shorelines,

she’s scraping

the moral barrel,

going through

its rotten bottom,

into the cesspit,

in which she’s floating,

all with the blessings

of silent cler...

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Gospel Haiku 俳句

Mass murder machine

The ultimate irony

Gospel is its name

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Walking the Streets

Rachel touts for votes in Leeds,

but Rachel Gen O’ Cide is fleet,

yes, Rachel and her minder run

from awkward questions on our streets;

that mother’s questions ain’t no fun;

have you had a drink of water?

have you eaten more than crumbs?

Gaza’s children have to dig

for water whilst they’re dodging bombs,

Rachel, do you give a fig?

have you had to dig your daughter


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Valentine's Day-Another Massacre-Another Dollar

“Made in Britain”, once a mark of highest quality,

To Gaza, with love, we send white-hot death from above,

Cruel Britannia stoops to utter depravity.  

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BritainGazadeathdepravitymassacredollarsValentine's Day

1000 MILES IN 2024: 1st Running Total

Thursday the eighth of February,

and eleven point seven miles I’ve walked,

a running total in defiance

of the enemy within,

of voices in my head who’d rather

I sit quiet, with nose to screen,

consuming crap made just for me,

algorhythmically designed

to rob me of humanity,

of poetry in my walking’s rhythm,

a miracle that’s in full flow,

performed by those who gave...

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Cant(erbury) and Hypocrisy

Will you be there in Our Lord’s House

on bended knee on Sunday morn,

good Christians all; will you be there,

a-seeking spiritual comfort from

one silent on a genocide,

who, love and peace will loudly preach,

whose cowardly silence volumes speaks,

th’ Archpastor of you faithful sheep?


Will you cry out for justice now,

or crucify again Our Lord,

side with enablers ...

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GenocideArchbishopCanterburyHouse of Lords

1000 MILES IN 2024

They said, no!

no, you can’t!

just shut up,

go away;

they said

what they

always say,

too old,

too fat,

waste of space,

a pisspot,

a fantasist,

say voices

in my head.

I've told them,

piss off,

the first step’s

to take one,

so I took one,

I planned,

If you do not

you plan to fail,

so I got all my kit,

warm leggings

and mi...

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physical healthmental health

Hello Goodbye

A rosy glow adorns this morning’s sky,

today, we regulars pay our respects,

tomorrow, with an angel I will play.

A quiet bloke, he’d been around the world,

of Africa and engineering spoke,

of vintage motorbikes, and automatic cars,

the pros and cons of smart-or not-TVs,

of pacemakers, the NHS, and stuff,

and never took his little trilby off,

a different one from time to ...

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AfricaplanetsstarsangelsNHSPeppa Pig

What Period Poverty?

How do you fancy ripping tents up, Angie,

instead of nipping to the corner shop?

Here in the town of Stockport, Lancashire,

when sirens sounded, townsfolk gratefully fled

to shelter under arches stout and strong;

but now, the stench of death pervades the air,

the body politic is now corrupt;

no air raid shelters for the innocents

of Gaza under rubble, three months gone;


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period povertyGazaStockportLancashire


To write a couple of lines I am inclined,

About a cat, sat on my front-door mat,

That was or was not, victim of a crime.

There in a box it sat, and that was that!

Or so I thought; then wrote a few more lines.

That’s not my cat, it is Herr Schrödinger's!

Is it quite dead, or is it doing fine?

Are Cheshire cats renowned malingerers?

Your answers to my questions I invite;


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crimeSchrodinger's catfallacytu quoquelogicdemagoguery

月亮 杘句


Full majestic moon.

Time and tide wait for no one.

Let’s reach for the sky.

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full moon

Slaughterhouse Red

Welcome to Britain, madam Ambassador for Genocide;

this carpet’s the latest fashion, Slaughterhouse Red.

Per Ardua ad Astra is how they died,

a diet of porky pies, what they were fed, 

“We will remember them”, cry solemn parrots, 

ad nauseam, per annum, dog-whistled, 

forgetting stick, they much prefer those carrots,

warmongering Lords want us protestors kettled; 

oh yes, ...

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¡No Pasarán!

On Cable Street in ‘thirty-six

they said ¡No Pasarán! keeping Fascists at bay

with chamber-pots pouring, with fists kicks and bricks.

But on that hypocrites’s watch, in ‘twenty-three,

they said “¡Pasarán! it’s the Fascists field day”,

Spanish Nazis and Blackshirt admirers roamed free

on Preston’s streets, decency slayed;  

our ex-home secretary now protests for genocide,


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GazaCable StreetfascistsnazisBlackshirtsPreston

Tabula Rasa

Vent your anger on people in small boats,

on long-haired gorgeous blokes, who like to wear skirts;

forget the yachts sailed by millionaire thieving scrotes,

forget who welcomed to the UK, Nazis and Blackshirts,

facts indeed are sacred, as someone said,

but only facts which the sewer chooses to reveal,

yes, no news is good news, what nearly thirty thousand dead?

targetted jour...

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small boatsNazisBlackshirtsbombsgenocideGaza

It’s Christmas in the Asylum (belated version)

This poem is based on a story which appeared over Christmas, and which was taken to be true!

AWOL = absent without leave


The Christmas gammon have gone spitting mad,

they think asylum seekers are going AWOL

for Christmas: yes here in the UK it’s that bad,

with nothing around here but strife and trouble,

that’s why those “foreigners” want to go home!

Gee Beebie News are ha...

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W.C.N.S.F. (Wounded Child, No Surviving Family)

The sun and the moon and the stars

weep for you, dear tiny wee babe;

I see your wounds, little one,

I would tend them, and ease your pain,

but all I can do is to pray;

and to weep for you, little child;

although we’re miles apart,

I’ll hold you close in my heart.

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