Loathsome

Recorded messages that never end

Politicians that never spend

Trolls that never stop

The latest thing that has to be got.

Social media that is never quiet

Business that is never right.

Liars who make the most noise

Stupid people who speak with poise.

Catastrophic news that never yields

Never ending misery for ratings wield 

Inaction on the big problems, our fate sealed.

So many scammers trying to steal.

Conservatives lying to get their deal

We know if they don’t, they’ll only squeal.

Denying climate change is real

Disallowing how people, actually, feel

For no reason other than their chosen god

Deny them their choice and they’ll shoot their wad.

All the idiots on hands free phones

Letting everyone hear their conversations drone

Working mums who feel put upon

Like their children were a mystery from god.

Never feeling good enough

You know, all that stuff

Love Is Hope

The couple walks hand in hand 

window shopping with woollen gloves on.

Scarves and matching coats.

The afternoon is as long as the suns shadows stretch,

bright as though to emphasise the winter cold. Weather irony, behold.

The excitement of the day they carry in paper carry bags they carry in their mitten hands.

They think they will love like this forever,

that life is grand, and that they will always will be.

Just like this.

Love is hope.

Tough Dog, Tough Guy

The guy with the tough dog

on a rope, can hardly cope 

with the mutt’s protestations 

and pulling at its yoke.

But it made him a big man

and got him lots of looks,

even if he had no understanding 

of how to control man’s best friend,

that much was clear.

Those who know nothing, 

about the shark on a lead,

standing with him outside 

the welfare place, 

he couldn’t help but think were impressed, 

you could see it written across his face.

Smoking With The Sisters

I smoked pot with the nuns, before the day begun, 

with jam toast and tea, you know, just for fun.

It was hard work being the wives of god

And they needed something to take them away a lot.

We’d sit in the garden, on the terrace by the pond

Sister Immaculata would be the first on hand

Sister Immaculata, with her two bad knees,

It would always be medicinal, roll away she’d say.

So keen was she, she’d be encouraging me 

to “roll up a good one,” as she liked to say,

before Sister Juanita and Sister Jenny-Beth

came downstairs to join us for tea.

We’d sit in a circle, under the Golden Elm

Juanita, Jenny-Beth, Immaculata and me,

Twitching fingers, passing the dubee expertly

until the very last toke was smoked greedily.

And then we would laugh, oh, how we’d laugh

Juanita, Jenny-Beth, Immaculata and me,

Immaculata would roar, Juanita and Jenny-Beth tee hee

As the tears in our eyes fell into our tea.

“Walked on water!” Juanita slapped her knee.

“Fed thousands with one fish,” Jenny-Beth giggled. “He he.”

“Turn water into wine,” Immaculata laughed out loud.

“Spat in some blokes eye,” I’d say, as I pass the joint along.

They’d look at me, Juanita, Jenny-Beth, Immaculata, all three,

curious looks spread across their faces, I could see.

Immaculata bending her knee, and looking away.

Jenny-Beth clasping her hands, Juanita gazing at me.

Then we’d get back to the business of the day

Saving lives, saving souls, making rolls, making tea

Juanita, Jenny-Beth and Immaculata, and me,

I’d go for a nap, my head spinning steadily.

Detritus

The boy all in black

sits in the gutter and smokes his smack.

He stares straight ahead,

he’d rather be there doing that

than dead, despite what society 

might say about his plight.

He was sure they would say a lot

he was sure they wouldn’t 

lift a finger to help,

because you know it’s his fault.

He wonders about the joy of going home,

even the luxury of going on his own.

Somewhere opera plays.

He smiles at the irony of the day.