We are the bald monkeys,

We are the bald monkeys,
From a planet in the milky way.
We rush around in our tin cans,
From place to place to place.
We can make machines of wondrous power,
And also vast heaps of trash.
We'll kill wild forests and elephants,
We'll turn our planet to ash.
We are such curious creatures,
We always want to know, 
So we cut others up to see how they work,
And when they're dead  we know.
We think that we are so intelligent,
But don't seem to realise,
That there is no planet b
For us to colonise.
So unless we treat earth and it's life,
With care and with respect,
The oceans will rise and erase us,
As a failed experiment.

If swift

If swift was I

I’d fly screaming,

Sleep on the wing

And fly dreaming.

When it got too cold

To Africa I’d fly

But I’m earthbound

Growing old

Whilst in summersky

Swifts fly

Until they die

Flying.

the Americas,

When I went to Bulgaria,

They thought that I came from America;

Maybe because of the blue denim jeans,

That I wore.

I had a pair since I was nine, or, maybe, before,

Because I wanted to be a cool boy,

To look like a cowboy,

As I galloped on my imaginary pony

Across the tarmac prairies,

Of a west London school playground.

I would put two fingers together

And make the ‘peow-peow’ noises,

Of a television gunslinger’s six-shooter

America had colonised me, culturally.

Then after the TV westerns, the music got me:

Although I preferred the cynics and the critics,

To the romantics.

Steely Dan, Little Feat and Frank Zappa

Blew my small island mind.

But now I know

That it was always just the.U.S.A.,

And mainly the Anglos;

But, there are many more Americas,

With many different dreams,

To those pouring out of

My stereo speakers and video screens.

lucas plan

Factories in Willesden and Birmingham,

Not where you’d go unless you got paid,

To build parts for bombers and tanks,

For this is where these were made;

And those who made those weapons knew,

What the things that they made could do,

To men and women like them.

But then again,

You must sell what you can sell,

To pay for food and a roof as well.

The system that sets a worker’s price

Isn’t ever kind or nice,

And in the case of Lucas Aerospace

Compassion had no place

In such calculations

So redundancies were the fix

Applied in nineteen seventy-six.

The workers’ unions would not comply,

 ‘We can still work’, they said, and they asked why

They couldn’t now make machines

Not intended to kill and burn

‘We could design the blades that turn

With the wind to make clean power

Devise car engines that make fewer fumes

We could be building kidney machines,

Be saving lives not taking’.

And none of this was just wild dreams

Because they built the prototypes

Of socially useful technology.

But Management refused to see

And only words and sympathy

Came from Labour and the TUC.

So, it all amounted to a might have been,

But one that some still remember

To remind us that we could have seen,

Instead of planetary destruction driven by greed,

A world where workers control their work

And produce for human need.

ODE TO A SUMMER COLD

My nose is running so fluently,

Discharging a tsunami of snot,

Words cannot describe it,

Except for the words that I’ve got.

It’s a deluge of slimy mucus,

A tidal bore of nasal scum,

And there’s gallons more to come.

It is an unprecedented nostril event,

And I find it very strange,

Perhaps I am a victim,

Of internal climate change.

Could it be that my brain is melting,

From the heat of my poetic inspiration,

I’ve had writer’s block for weeks,

So it ends my bardic constipation,

Now it’s all come out in a flood

That I’ve put down on paper;

But when I come back later,

There’ll be a serious issue

Because instead of a majestic masterpiece,

I’ll just have heaps of wet tissue.

Total Gardening

If you have the money,

Why not spend it creating

Your very own miniature totalitarian state,

In your very own garden?

Surround and secure your territory

With hedges, trimmed into regular

Rectangular configurations.

Install wrought iron gates to control all migration.

Only allow grass to grow in designated lawns,

And nowhere else;

Ensure each blade of grass is exactly cut

To a uniform length;

And that every one is of the same

Species and colour.

Astroturf is not an acceptable substitute,

Because it would not involve

Making living things submit to your will.

Arrange other selected pure-bred plants

At precisely equal intervals in borders

That are made in accurate geometrical shapes

Only squares, paralellograms and triangles will do.

Use fire, iron, chemical and biological means

To eradicate all intrusive plants, insects,

Invertebrates and other creatures

Install automatic security lights and video

To enhance surveillance.

The sky may still be unruly,

And the weather unpredictable,

But just ignore them and gloat,

Over your New Horticultural Order.

POSH GAMMON

I like to lie in bath of luke warm water,

Reading The Spectator.

It’s so well written, it’s so right wing,

It wants the empire back,

It’s for people who own things.

And when the mad Russians come,

And The Spectator says they will.

And drop their naughty bomb,

I’m going to die in my bath,

Reading the Truth,

When the fireball rolls,

I’m going to boil like bacon,

Charred paper in my hand,

The last leisured remnant

Of a dead civilisation.