hibernating frog

I dug up a hibernating frog,

When I levered a buried paving stone,

Out of the ground,

Next to the pond.

I imagined that I was an archaeologist,

Or a grave robber,

As I cut away couch grass and weeds

And prised the slab onto its edge,

But as it hadn’t been buried that long,

The only treasures revealed,

Seemed to be worms and woodlice

Scurrying and writhing away

From the sudden unwelcome daylight.

Then I saw the little frog’s

Long legs kicking

As it hid in another crevice.

Sorry, amphibian pal,

To have so rudely woken you.

Spring’s on the way

But not quite all here yet,

So, catch some more kip,

Until the sun’s well up

And the swifts have returned.

ZOMBIE CAPITALIST DEATH HORROR

ZOMBIE CAPITALIST DEATH HORROR (© P.R.Murry 12/03/2017)

The dead bad giants

Are alive again,

Once my father believed

That they had been slain,

Or at least, battered

Down onto their knees;

And that Poverty, Ignorance,

Squalor and Disease

Could no longer crush us

With fear and grief;

But, sadly, that belief

Was overoptimistic.

And like something terrific and horrific,

The four zombified monsters

Are re-animated and undead,

Lumbering into a new century

Crushing those who cannot pay

Smashing all obstacles in their way,

Rewarding wealth and spurning need,

Driven by the power of greed

To ensure capitalism’s control

Of our bodies, our brains our souls.

So now we must dig a deeper hole

to bury them forever.

PERSONAL INDEPENDENCE PAYMENT INTERVIEW (A PARTLY FICTIONAL ACCOUNT)

A Nice Nurse knocked on my front door,

So I showed her up the stairs,

To my first floor flat.

I asked her to observe,

The difficulty that I have

In ascending to my abode,

For it is an overweight and arthritic old man,

Who writes this ode;

And coughs as he does so, remembering,

Forty years of heavy smoking

Plus decades more of breathing,

Polluted city air.

So I pant up the steps,

And sit, wheezing, in my chair,

As the Nice Nurse questions me.

She asks if I can wipe my own arse,

And how frequently I pee,

How I catch the bus or train,

And, how many pills I take,

And when I walk with my walking stick,

What progress do I make?

At the end of the interview, she explains

That in a month or so,

A verdict on my payment will be made,

It could be cut, it could be raised, it could even be doubled

Then she holds up a bucket and says:

“or just kick this now,

Save the government some money and trouble.”