anglerfish

A monkfish on the bottom of an aquarium tank

Lies camoflagued on the gravel,

It could be looking at the glass screen

That separates her from the world

And keeps her alive

Though I doubt that

She knows that.

The screen that

I stare at every day

Has shown me what a monkfish is,

What it looks like,

What it does

And that anglerfish is

Its other name.

Now I know how

It can be caught and cut,

And sliced and iced.

Some say that

Its flesh tastes nice.

And that’s not all

That my screen lets me see,

I can see sea, seals,

Seagulls, sealions, sealice,

And long muscular fighting conger eels,

Hooked and hauled up on lines,

From sunken wrecks.

I don’t know

If this tidal flow

Of maritime information

Keeps me as supine

As the anglerfish

Lying on the bottom of my tank

Staring at the screen

But I can tell you this,

My false consciousness

Is full of fish.

grouse

Now I know,

Or imagine that I know

What it feels like

To be a grouse.

Whatever I say

Is no use.

The beaters and dogs

Are moving up behind me.

I feel fear

As they draw near.

Soon I must break cover,

Try to fly

As fast as I can over

The booming

Lead spraying guns.

I’ll have to make a sky run

Launch myself

Get it over

Get it done

As fast as I dare

Through the deadly

Flak-filled air

Beat my wings desperately

And pray that

I don’t get terminated by

Some cretinous plutocrat.

sphere I go

 Like a sphere I go

Here and there,

A spare pillock,

Or an unattached bollock,

That rolls around

Because it’s round

And all there is to do

Is to go wherever

It’s pushed and

Impelled by

The tip of the cue.

Never knowing why

Never having a clue,

Just rotating on something

That’s rotating in space.

A pimple on a pimple

In a place that’s

Not a plaice.

A jellyfish in an ocean

Has much more control.

Like flotsam

Like jetsam

Any tide can carry me by

Wash me up,

Or take me under

Let me breathe,

Or make me drown.

It’s as if I was a human

In a world

Ruled by a clown.

Lilieth leapt the electric fence,

Lilieth leapt the electric fence,

Maybe, at the time, it made sense,

To pounce, claws extended, at a bird in flight,

And so, fall into freedom by accident.

Or maybe she made a deliberate jailbreak,

‘cause you gotta do what you gotta do,

To get outta the zoo.

Who knows what a lynx thinks?

 

But briefly, Lilieth  the lynx got away

And was no longer on display,

She was no longer confined,

To be admired or to be ignored ,

By the curious, the awestruck, or the bored.

Peering through the wire.

 

Perhaps real freedom then kicked in,

With no food and drink provided,

Out in the woods and the fields and hills,

To eat she has to hunt and kill,

And at first maybe she has an edge,

As it must be centuries,

Since any lynx walked and stalked

Along these thickets and hedges,

So maybe some rabbits and mice,

Or a bird or two, turned just too late

And drew their last breaths,

Between the jaws of golden-eyed death.

 

Sadly, hunters can be hunted too,

And Lilieth could not be left to be free,

She was the ‘property’ of a zoo,

And large predators in Britain just cannot be,

Unless they’re members of the bourgeoisie.

 

Uncaught Lilieth caused official fear

Alleged to pose a risk “severe”,

So a killing bullet, not a tranquilising dart,

Was sent to stop this beauty’s heart.

 

But the wheel will turn, and justice will be done,

And free once more,  Lilieth will run,

Padding along on larger paws,

With longer, stronger, deadlier claws,

Reborn a larger, fiercer cat,

 

She’ll rip out the throats of bureaucrats.

imperial shitstorm

Before I was born,

The island where I now live,

Was one origin

Of a worldwide shitstorm.

A tornado of piracy,

A cyclone of brutality,

Sending ships

To inflict war, exploitation

And imperial inhumanity.

It was not unique in this,

And what’s more,

Maybe its people learnt

From what had gone before,

When longships and galleys

Arrived on its shores.

For too long a time

There was success

In these crimes,

Because it had the luck

To strike when

Its victims were

Divided and weak.

Then its sins were glorified,

Dressed with stolen jewels,

Silks, gold and furs

And myths that dignified

Theft’s cause.

Many who had stayed home,

Responded with

Loud applause

Since the imperial shitstorm

Transformed them

Into some sort of master race

Told they were superior

To others in

Other places.

For a while

This obscene panoply

Trundled on like

Some vast stone Victorian memorial

Dragged by proles,

Peasants and slaves

Trailing behind

Tears, bloodstains and

Broken bodies and souls

For the benefit

Of ruling ghouls.

But it’s now going

Slower and slower,

As its victims have rebelled,

Now it can barely crawl.

It needs sticks, supports

And surgeries

To stagger along at all

But it is still greeted

With cheers

For every lurch it makes

‘Reform’, they cry

Yet it’s far too late

For this lurching zombie

Parasite state.

 

 

 

Boring chores

 Sweeping floors,

Closing doors

Smearing ointment on sores

Cleaning the machine

That’s supposed to stop snores.

Boring chores

That I deplore

And then deplore again,

Down to my very core

That’s how much I deplore

Boring chores

Because they are boring

But there’s no ignoring

Boring chores

And I could make them

Even more boring

By making a chore

Of keeping a list

Of chores that I’d done

And those that I’d missed

But that would have

The tedious potential

Of driving me

Completely mental

Since that list

Would continue

As long as I exist

And continue on

Some more

There can be no end

To boring chores

bright white angel

 On the hill outside the surgery,

A man walks by,

Holding a child’s hand in one hand,

And a lead attached to a small dog,

That resembles an animated bathmat,

In the other.

The child is eating something,

But drops a part of this food

Onto the pavement.

The dog wants to eat

The fallen food.

The man prevents this

By tugging the dog’s lead.

Then the three of them move on.

The fallen food remains lying

On a grey paving slab until,

 A herring gull flying by, spies it.

Circles to make sure it’s safe,

Descends like a bright white angel,

Lands,

Seizes the food in its sharp yellow beak,

And, almost immediately flies off again,

Swallowing the food.

Satisfied that the pavement is now cleansed,

I enter the surgery

To give blood.