The Great Reset

The Great Reset -- Oil on canvas, 62 x 92cm

Two thousand and twenty was a year of great plenty
...of worries and troubles and woe!
This year let’s just hope that we’ll manage to cope
but will we? I really don’t know.

Let’s try and remember at least till December
the lessons that lockdown has taught us.
Lest we forget and remain in huge debt
mourning what money once bought us.

If you worked from your home, with no need to roam
don’t whine about missing the City.
You still had a job, so don’t cry and don’t sob
instead try to learn about Pity.

When you’ve finished your crap, just turn on the tap
don’t sweat if you’ve run out of paper.
Or use some dried grass to wipe off your ass
or a stick as a handy shit-scraper.

If wearing a mask is an onerous task,

Note to Self

Must find out why I'm here.
Must discover where "here" is.
Must clarify what I am.
Must understand what "what" is, and why.
Must identify when now is, and how.
Must do all of the above, then die.

Not published in AWAREWOLF & OTHER CRHYMES AGAINST HUMANITY for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader. We all hate poetry, right? But we might make an exception for this sick and twisted stuff. This devil's banquet of adults-only offal features more than 50 satanic sonnets, vitriolic verses and odious odes.

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Awarewolf

I came upon a golem
“encountered” one might say
eating dust as golems must
all bloody, muddy day.

I came upon a zombie
a zombie that I saw
gobbling brains ’til brainy stains
remained upon the floor.

I came upon a vampire
a vampire I did see
drinking blood that streamed in flood
bright red quite readily.

I came upon a werewolf
“awarewolf” as it were
hungry eyes saw my demise
my death, if you prefer.

I came upon the humans
in their global sauna
they ate a world and then they hurled
their guts out in a corner.

Beatings for One Person Each

Painting by William Blake

Basil baulked at bulk-bashing
Preferring to inflict higher quality beatings
On fewer victims

Bernadette broke a sweat placing bets
Her bibliophilous solution-toed calculi
At longer odds and shorter jockeys

David the pecs was tortured to death slowly
His bibulous problem-head unwhole he
Glugged a bevvy of big-bosomed babes

Unsolved on ebay, watch: onsold
To unrealtor Esmeralda Glutz
Unreal water but no crusts in all her dusty huts

dark sprite

What dark sprite pursues you down those corridors of ice,
that endless, lead to nowhere but the fear within your heart?

Dare you name the creature that has stolen your joy,
and insatiable in its fury ever thirsts for more?

We remember you in the golden time,
before the fall, when your soul untrammelled soared among the stars.

Please don’t go away; don’t leave us only with memories of your fierce dark mind,
the mysteries you create, the paths you tread where none has gone before.

I wrote this poem with a particular person in mind. Over a relatively short space of time, the person's personality and behaviour changed from light to dark, from loving to angry and hostile, from joyful to resentful, from kind to cruel. We've never found out what prompted the change, but we suspect it was a specific episode/incident in that person's life. It has been heartbreaking to witness.

Published in AWAREWOLF and Other Crhymes Against Humanity for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.

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God is always right

Some people say there’s nothing but Matter
Others say everything is Energy.

Some people say everything is Information
Others say Awareness is everything.

Some people say that Love is all there is
Others say that God is all there is.

God says we’re alright:
Matter is Energy,
Energy is Information,
Information is Awareness,
Awareness is Love.
God is all ways right.

Down the toilet of lost souls

The Same God So That He Obtained Of The Magus Was By Demons Be Pulled In Pieces: Engraving by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.

Around the Courtyard of Dispaire
The stony benches stare
their stony glares I’m sitting there
belittling where I’m splitting hairs
unpicking nits let’s call it quits
before my mind’s behind forgets
that most of all I’m feeling numb
the cold befriends my lonely bum
it all depends it never ends
it twists and bends
its weary way it wends...
around the Courtyard of Dispaire.

Along the Hallway of Tomorrow
All the tumours beg and borrow
bloated bags of pus and vinegar
shiver, quiver, quaver or deliver
punctuated full-length features
starring all pipe-smoking creatures
eponymous green-hatted leprechauns
strangelings taut and sinning blameless
well-known if not despised and nameless
unhinged, unhorsed and plump with sorrow
trotting comes my old friend Zorro...
along the Hallway of Tomorrow.

Harmonies of baked liverwurst

The faint tinkling of fairy music
evaporating on the sparkly misty meadow
fleeing the Blade of Intention
fearing cold nakedness
its verisimilitude stillborn, sometimes rebirthed:
Harmonies of Baked Liverwurst.

Encircling that which won’t
or that witch will
shorn of etymological linguini
equilibria egregiously punctuated
its verisimilitude quiver-cursed:
Harmonies of Baked Liverwurst.

Arrowshot, debarked and deboned
so very like the river
burst its bank, the peoples’ bank
sea-stark, unthroned
its verisimilitude to health renursed:
...

the pact

Once upon a Frosty Friday
In the merry month of May
Seven sisters swore a secret pact
To bind them night and day

They packed the pact up tight and good
Within a pact-box made of wood
Seven sisters thought that that was that
Or so they thought they understood

Each went about her daily life
In which misogyny was rife
Forgotten was the deadly pact
Until the first became a wife

Their tragic story must be told
Six sisters bought but one was sold ...

the ogre of broken hill

In the foothills of the badlands
northwest of Broken Hill
lived an ugly hairy Ogre
he probably lives there still.

And in the early evening
Or the middle of the morn
They’d find the bloody corpses
With their throats all ripped and torn.

Some said he was an ogre
Others disagreed
“he’s just a sicko bastard,”
Was all they would concede.

The police could never find him
Nor the soldiers, nor the spies ...