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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T’Chrismus Gammon have gone spittin’ mad,

‘cos t’asylum seekers are gooin’  AWOL

fer Chrismus; aye, here in t’UK it’s reet bad,

there’s nowt reawnd ‘ere but strife on’ trouble,

so t’forinners‘re seekin’ asylum back whoam!

Gee Beebie News‘re ‘avin’ a meltdown,

they’re at it like rabid dogs wi’ a bone,

parliament’s an asylum, on’ t’loons‘re in charge,

con wi not send ‘em t’li...

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With client hacks,

quiet words in ears,

he loves the craic

at working lunches

with the journo sewer,

making numbers crunch.

more twists and turns

than a snake with an itch,

humanity burns

while he makes his pitch,

purging list,

ever ready,

on power pissed

biding time,

keeping steady

the applecart,

election ready

steady fart!

The Lobby’s man,

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https://youtu.be/88kJd9PwVwY?list=RD88kJd9PwVwY

Here’s candle light

for our darkness;

here’s calming prayer

for our grief and pain;

here’s atonement,

healing separation;

their hands are joined in prayer,

I wait in dread, for them I fear;

de profundis clamavi ad te Domine.  

שִׁ֥יר הַֽמַּֽעֲל֑וֹת מִמַּֽעֲמַקִּ֖ים קְרָאתִ֣יךָ יְהֹוָֽה

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The trouble with continually crying wolf

is that you end up being trampled

by the herd of elephants in the room,

you for too long ignored

and who will make of you an example;

like it or not, I’m a poet,

whether a good one

or a bad one’s

for you to decide;

but if there’s a line,

my task’s not to toe it,

but to write it,

to tell it out loud,

tell the truth ...

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A decade old now,

Those Blackthorn whips I planted.

Hope will come with Spring.

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Zephaniah

told them to take their Order of the British Empire

and shove it right where the monkey shoves his nuts;

to higher things than that he did aspire,

not for him, life as an elite sucker up;

a man of his word, he, for his entire life

fought against empire, racism and slavery,

against colonial imposition and strife;

he inspired others to personal bravery,

connecti...

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With dinner simmering nicely on the hob,

in comfort and with gratitude, I watched

the ritual enacted on our screen;

a sombre scene, demanding dignity,

respectful silence, mindfulness of grief.

The whistle blown, straight o’er the top they went,

did Tommy Atkins and his brave young pals,

the destiny of most - Eternity.

Two minutes’ quiet, the very least required;

no...

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النكبةAl Nakba: Day 27,375 and Counting…

With client hacks,

quiet words in ears,

he loves the craic

at working lunch

with the journo sewer,

making numbers crunch,

his purging list,

is at the ready,

on power pissed

he’s biding time,

and keeping steady

the applecart,

election ready,

to be off like a fart,

the lobby’s man,

so quiet when

it suits him ...

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Your Jewish Voice for Labour

is another voice for me,

a voice for cooperation,

a voice for good, not ill;

your Jewish Voice for Peace,

asks no more blood be spilled,

let your protests’ sound increase;

speak up my sisters, brothers,

for all humanity,

speak out against vile smears,

against hypocrisy,

speak out against apartheid,

Mandela was correct:

our freedom...

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The good folk of the North-East UK

will surely be delighted to learn today

that thirty-four per cent of their children,

the victims of that corrupt brethren,

are living in poverty because Stockton’s “a shithole”,

in a country ruined by complete arseholes;

their mission’s complete, they’re finally there,

with their wealth and their health, saying “sod your nightmare”,

it’s ...

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What’s Alawa for

“A man who speaks through his arse”?

Gangurru anus.

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No, Board of Deputies of British Jews,

you do not speak for her;

neither does the tool-maker’s son,

he does not speak for her;

nor you, Hotovely, you don’t speak for her…

…for that brave Jewish lady with a conscience

whose family died in The Holocaust,

who, in London, engaged in peaceful protest,

was harassed, arrested and detained

for twenty-four hours by a bored-...

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They’ve just let the cat

out of Number Ten,

she’s going going,

going gone;

No Scene Of Crime tape

across the door;

hate-crime's OK,

and genocide too;

but look on the bright side,

to avoid accusations

of anti-Semitism

Magellan’s out,

Netanyahu’s in.

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Futility (apologies to Wilfred Owen)

Forget, forget,

Her rallying cry;

Forget, forget

The reason why;

Forget, forget

Our fathers lied,

Was it for this the clay grew tall?

—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil

To break earth's sleep at all?

https://i.guim.co.uk/img/media/38ea2e27d86aac206fb6bcbeab84dec1c4d15fda/3_0_3030_1819/master/3030.jpg?width=700&quality=45&auto=...

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https://www.ibtimes.co.uk/home-secretary-faces-uproar-over-entry-spanish-neo-nazi-far-right-extremist-britain-1719878

Her Deathstyle Choice!

The red red rose of Lancashire, it’s red for love,

the poppy, flower of Palestine which gives me hope,

the fragile Armistice poppy, of hope, not hate,

trodden in the mud by Braverman’s Nat C. friends,

by the Nazi hate-mob...

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A letter dropped through my post box the other day, it was addressed to The Occupier,

so I forwarded it to Benjamin Netanyahu (C/o UK and USA).

We want...

What do we want?

Armistice!

We want it now,

In our thousands,

in our millions,

we are all

Palestinians.

Sir Kid starver

backs kid killing,

put up

shut up

no more.

We want...

what do we want?

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No, king Charlie number three,

Do not presume to speak for me,

I will not brook a genocide.

No, Hate-Monger General,

In Washington you spoke for hate,

Now slander you, those who wish peace

Upon all those whose hearts do break,

Who mourn the deaths of innocents.

That poppy pinned upon your left lapel?

It does not show you care, it’s all pretence;

You hands are red wit...

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Jihad, jihad, toil and trouble!

In the cause of public safety

Honest Bobprick’s banned that word;

The Met Plod’s also banned a road,

The road in question being “The Struggle”,

Or, as it’s known in Palestine,

The “Jihad”, yes, wot broke my gearbox!

That ain’t no amble for this old crock,

Ban it now, that darned Jihad!

Jihad! Struggle! Jihad! Struggle!

Double, double to...

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In a state born from terrorism, what could go wrong,

with Ben Yahoo funding terrorists to bring Abbas to his knees;

his blind eyes turned to incendiaries and to rockets,

with millions in cash allowed through the crossing,

to maintain a ceasefire with Hamas in The Strip?

In a state born from terrorism, what could go wrong?

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A nasty old witch called Cruella

That spreader of Legionella,

Lived on an old barge

With some arsehole called George,

Now the UK’s got rampant Chlamydia.

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Goodbye Election

That barrel full’s finally flushed,

He didn’t just go, he was pushed;

He followed his flow chart

To hell in a handcart,

And through a side door he eff-offed

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God Bless you Ahed Tamimi

https://youtu.be/XPhEjECGjAs?list=TLPQMjAxMDIwMjPF8r18c89eeQ

In February 2018, the famous Israeli poet Yehonatan Geffen, the nephew of Moshe Dayan, posted a poem on his Instagram page that ended with the following lines:

את, אהד תמימי,

אדומת השיער,

כמו דוד שסטר לגולית,

תהיי באותה שורה עם

ז'אן דארק, חנה סנש ואנה פרנק.

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Sunday Prayers

Yesterday was Sunday.

It was our Sabbath;

a walk in the park

in the autumn sun;

and that was the day

right after Shabbat;

and that was the day

after their Jumu’ah;

Three days of prayer,

of reflection and quiet.

We walked in the park

with family and friends

in the autumn sun,

then sat in the riotous

children’s playground,

whic...

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Yesterday was Sunday;

which was our Sabbath;

a walk in the park

in the autumn sun.

That was the day

right after Shabbat,

and that was the day

after their Jumu’ah;

Three days of prayer,

of reflection and quiet.

We walked in the park

with family and friends

in the autumn sun,

then sat in the riotous

children’s playground,

which wasn’t so quiet

for...

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If I haven't liked or commented on your poems over the last few weeks/months, it's not because I've fallen out with you, or because I don't like what you write; it's because I've been preoccupied, engaged in a struggle: perhaps a struggle for sanity?

But we'll get through this together. Love and best wishes.

Writers of the world Unite! 

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It’s with a heavy heart that I make this post, overwhelmed as I am, with emotions ranging from despair to incandescent rage about the tragic events in Israel and Palestine. I can’t find any helpful words to describe how I feel, so I’ll leave you with this.

It’s a beautiful love poem/song which I think is sung here in Hebrew, with what I think is possibly music of Arabic influence?

The sourc...

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The evil they once did lives after them;

Once more, the monster they created, strikes.

But ever-strident hypocrites demand

that I condemn out loud those evil deeds.

They browbeat me, a great granddad who sees

fresh hell before me, each and every day,

in far-flung corners of this grieving world,

with tears that well up in my ageing eyes,

at images of newly orphaned babes,

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Message for admirers of this well-nigh fascist regime:

over the last few weeks, I’ve had a kind of Damascene moment;

so you can shove your bloody culture wars

up your self-important ever-vocal fundaments.

I’ve decided there are far bigger fish to fry,

Like under-nourished British school kids,

Who go to school hungry and cry;

or are bullied because they can’t afford

the requ...

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Just to make myself perfectly clear from:

https://www.jewishvoiceforlabour.org.uk/

"To be a Jew means always being with the oppressed, never with the oppressors.”

Marek Edelman – last surviving leader, Warsaw ghetto uprising.

By way of contrast, this from Ntanyahu: “Israel is not a state of all its citizens… [but rather] the nation-state of the Jewish people and only them”. Israel...

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Rise, like lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number!
Shake your chains to earth, like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you:
Ye are many—they are few!

(From the Masque of Anarchy by Percy Bysshe Shelley)

Below is what I consider to be a Manifesto of Hope, to whose motives and principles I wholly subscribe.

Public ownership of all public services and infrastructure, including ...

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Welcome to Manchester;

To the Tóraidhe Party Confluence;

to the land in which

the pursuit of greater affluence on behalf of

the already obscenely affluent

results in vast quantities of verbal and physical effluent;

which will of course be removed

by United Futilities

who’ll dump it

on our land and in our streams;

a “service” paid for

by those who have next to no...

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You can’t afford to pay your heating bills?

Well, here’s some hate to keep you nice and warm.

Aim it at them, and them; they’ve caused your ills.

With love from me to you; a firestorm.

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Britain’s now drifting

Rudderless and no compass.

Send for the Blackshirts!

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Desist from your rave and your rant,

But indulge in hypocrisy and cant.

Dead Yemenis are boring,

Europeans, alluring.

Oh look, there’s a rather large elephant!

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Fascism needs tools.

Holocaust survivor banned

From speaking the truth.

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Your particular point of view,

Ain’t permitted ’cos it’s red;

No matter whether it’s false or true,

It annoys me that it can be read.

Blackshirts are marching down the street,

Coming to sort dissenters out,

Thirty Pee’s thrown some red meat,

Sod your civil rights, they’re up the spout.

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I’ve never glued my hands

to anything,

except for that time

when I was making that model

of a Fokker Triplane

that my mam got me

for passing some exams.

I’ve been on loads of demos,

protesting against

the racist National Front

who marched through my town,

whilst police dogs

snapped at my heels.

I’ve been on demos against the BNP ,

who admired a so-calle...

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The Tories treat

our nurses with contempt

our doctors with disdain

our firefighters with derision

our ambulance workers with disrespect

our railway staff with scorn

our carers with despisal

our armed forces with antipathy

our sick with neglect

our elderly with indignity

our teachers with ridicule

our children with condescension

our pensioners with contempt

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Oh, would it were the happy truth: consigned

Unto the flames of hell, that Crooked House, 

Where Mammon’s ermined scarlet whores decide

Which trough they’ll dig with snuffling filthy snouts!

Those arsonists so proudly pose in food

Pantries, yet loudly praise the firefight;

Rapacious brutes, they Gaîa do denude 

Of hope; they’re criminals, who firelight.

Rich ...

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Bravo Greenpeace,

now it’s time

to stop the Tory stunts,

those cunning stunts.

Lock ‘em up

on HMS Grenfell,

or on the Broads,

in massive punts.

Oh hell, I really must

learn to spell!

Addendum: https://www.theguardian.com/politics/live/2023/aug/03/oliver-dowden-asylum-seekers-bibby-stockholm-uk-politics-live

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In Praise of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution

The words in German are from a revised version of Schiller’s Poem "An die Freude" Ode to Joy. I’ve paraphrased them in English to form the first four lines of my poem.

Part of Schilller’s poem formed the basis  of the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, an extract of which, was adopted by the European Union, on the grounds that ...

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Rent a Gob Fartage, please quit ballooning, we have had enough,

Of your complaining that your bank’s given you the old ho-heave,                                                                                        

So why don’t you (in short sharp jerky movements) just bloody well bugger right off,

Your best ever promise was, if Brexit was a failure, the UK you would leave,

So sod r...

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So, fellow poets, Rwanda’s safe…isn’t it?

Tell that to our friend, Innocent Bahati,

The Kigali school teacher, whose words are illicit,

And offensive to Rwanda’s high and mighty.

Come on, you poets, do you fancy a visit

To Rwanda to tell Bahati: it’s safe!

Well you can’t, because Bahati’s simply, disappeared,

Desaparecido, as Thatcher’s generals would say.

Worldwide, one h...

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Asked the philosopher from Devizes.

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“Comment is free…
but facts are sacred”,
an ed. once said.
But I’m fact-free,
and my prejudice naked,
when things are said
with which I don’t agree.

Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh

4th July 2023

PEN International calls on the Rwandan authorities to urgently come clear and publicly account for the whereabouts of poet Innocent Bahati who has been missing since 7 February 2021.

https://www.pen...

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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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If you care anything at all about Mental Health Services in Tory UK, and about how the Tories treat their citizens watch this: https://youtu.be/OTkqQX2xvqQ

Modus Operandi-Conscious Cruelty

National Emergency; declare a General Strike;

Are we Hearts of Oak, or timid wee mice?

Stop kissing their boots, tell ‘em to take a hike,

I for one, am itching to get rid of these lice;

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His dad was a toolmaker,

he’s frequently said;

no surprise whatsoever,

that the tool’s now in bed

with foul Rupert Murdoch;

why don’t he just get wed,

to the thing under that rock,

the source of the sewer,

read by a gullible flock,

that rag filled with bile;

justice for the many?

no, not by a mile,

justice for fewer!

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