The tiniest bird

Pamianthe-peruviana_2020-1I wanted to flee to the mountains
His image would not  leave  me alone
I hid in a cave as  a tempest raved
The wind whistled into my bones

After the storm there was fire
The fire that burns into the soul
I stood as the  flames flickered over
The Cave was  fit only for ghouls

With  my candle I looked at the shadows
I wandered about  like a ghost
I abandoned my  thoughts and my writing
He  spoke to
 me in the  deep dark

Only when all  good’s been taken
When despair is too happy a word
The spirit flies over the water
On the wings of the tiniest bird

 

I’ve got migraine in my heart

I’ve got migraine in my heart
Spasms of grief  constrain the flow
The poor go down and the rich depart

I just looked at my shopping cart
The tower blocks lean, the street lights glow
I’ve got migraine in my heart

I’ve got eggs and milk and tarts
The poor can’t sleep  and their children snore
The poor go down and the rich depart

The teachers wish their work  could start
The benefits  system  overflows
I  felt pandemonium in my heart

In the sky  are  UFO’s
Where they go to I  may know
I’ve got migraine in my heart
The poor downtrodden, oh, damn  you Marx

 

The eyes were open still, I saw.

He was on his bike and they ran him down
He had dared to go outside
The  law is  the law and  the law is a clown
The punishment  can  beat down the crime

They thought they’d go out, they were getting bored
The police felt the same  so they  claimed
Maybe a fine wth some warning words
Ths is the day that they died

One was a singer and one was a fraud
 Which one was which I don’t know
The police came down like the wolf on the fold
The eyes were  open, still I saw.

Women must  bear the young   men beget
But what does  our society  affirm?
The policemen   have guns and   they owe us a debt
But  will they ever,ever learn?

Boris Johnson raised  up from the dead

The Tower of Babel fell down in the night
The people spoke but noone could reply
We  cried out but noone listened then
Nor did we salvage much  from wrecked Big Ben

Boris Johnson raised  up from the dead
His pleasures once , pre- flu,  lay in the bed
He spread his seed about  so it’s no boast
To  bear his child nor feed him Sunday roast

He will lead the country out of sin
His  brilliant way:  to  stop  us logging in
No more one click books  or   toys for sex
No more screws and curtain rails to fix.

Ah now enjoy the peace  of empty space
Yet we  grieve for lack of an embrace

Whatever will the public believe?

Cercidophyllum-japonicum-pendulum_20-3

 

Bow down with  utter humility about our ignorance and willingness to accept rubbish from the media

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/may/03/this-is-a-key-moment-in-the-publics-view-of-mainstream-news

In  the UK during WW2 extract

The government was late to wake up to the fact that so much of the population was receiving news about the crisis from wildly unreliable sources. There were immediate calls for a clamp-down. Not social media, but astrology. Not Covid-19, but the early days of the Second World War, as it became alarmingly apparent how much the British people relied on newspaper soothsayers such as Edward Lyndoe of the People and RH Naylor of the Sunday Express for their “news”.

Naylor’s advice for his readers as they anticipated the Blitz depended on their star sign: he counselled people born in January and November, for example, to take their chances in the open rather than underground shelters. The Home Office (Intelligence Branch) began an investigation and found that 40% of the population had some belief or interest in astrology and that a huge number of people were influenced enough to change their behaviour during air raids. The financial secretary to the Treasury called for “strong action to put a stop to this form of journalism”.