SONNET 1,432


I write again with my iambic pen
As beats crash into me in five-by-two
My metered thoughts be thunk – and only then
Can I begin to write those words anew.
I feel it like a heartbeat ev’ry time
A pulse, a thud, resounding in my soul
And though t’was Bill’s, I also make it mine
But shan’t forget the debt I’ll always owe.
Twelve lines, you’ll find alternate rhyming ends
All puzzle-pieces making up the thing;
Near rhymes, exact, they all make aural sense;
Provided that your ears be listening.

To end, a simple task: by no means least;
A rhyming couplet finishes the piece.





My kids were sleeping in their beds
As other children cried
With dreams inside their little heads
As Mums and Babies died

Mine snored away right through the night
As other children fled
A dream of fun; not one of fright
As sons and fathers bled

Their dreams unreal and love unsaid
As kids died chemically
They slept all night: bound, blanketed
As hearts beat heavily

I checked upon them carefully
Whilst parents searched the streets
And here were mine all safe with me;
Whilst theirs had faced defeat

And still mine slept and still they breathed
As mourning families cried
All safe, alive and here with me
As little children died

Yes, little children died.




img-saving-lives-under-fireA pawn in an incomplete game of static insanity
Your blood-letting, tongue-tied grimace has you blind
While humanity’s serpents serp and singers sing
Of all the reaping things.
Madness’ descent pauses on this: it had no reason to exist
Until now, when it persists.
After spending too long in the half-life, you reach out and geiger-count your blessings


So you reach the total sum of zero
A clickless life, a tickless existence
Bricked up in the wall of political persistence
There’s to be no saving of your soul – it’s only morose code for you
This is a remorseless dry, brown experiment
White helmet knights would save you from the rubble
But trouble is, they’re under it too.

My January Wish


I wish nice gifts for Britain for our Brexistential crisis
Like getting rid of bigotry – that really would be priceless
I’m sure the state of the U.S.Hate can just be circumvented
For my January wish is that they be unpresidented.





Here, Monolithic slicing has the edge;
Precision-cut as writ thus: One, Four, Nine
Too sharp for art, impossible to sketch;
Incisiveness makes space move around time.

Since forward-thinking processes took seed
-For matter always matters once applied-
Once travelling surpassed and broke light’s speed,
We broke all Universal laws prescribed.

And now unto the breach we go, dear friends,
Exploring all that’s hitherto unknown:
This Life up here, the stars from which we stem;
And death, our last bedfellow, down below.

It’s from this vantage point amongst the stars;
We see the reddest planet isn’t Mars.


Away in Aleppo


Away in Aleppo
No living, just dead
The little grey city
-a gun to its head
The bombs in the bright sky
Look down where kids lay
And drop on the families
Each night and each day

The weapons are lowing
The babies won’t wake
For dead little children
No crying can make
Some beg thee, Lord Jesus
Look down from the sky
And stay by Aleppo
‘Til morning is nigh

Away in Aleppo
No houses, no beds
The rest of the world now
Lay down their sweet heads
The guns in the heavens
Look down where they lay

Murder by bombing’s
The Syrian way

Away in Aleppo
No hope for a bed
The little Lord Jesus
Turns shoulder and head
I hate thee Lord Jesus
You aren’t in the sky
Unless you like leaving
Aleppo to die.