satire – Page 24 – poems 2 die for

FOR HUMANITY

FOR HUMANITY would like to thank you for what you have done for rationality thank you profusely for what you have done for the truth above all, thank you for what you have done for human decency and humanity but for what you have done for God I think best to leave it to Him to thank you Himself

FARM STORY

FARM STORY I am all farmed out Tick tock me here on your doomsday clock on the farm you will see I need my tik I need my beautiful tribe of B to get me atomic golden shower of abracadabra (hashtag Hasbara) help me to isolate myself stand against every creature, every animal calls itself humanity doesn’t rwconize tgd beauty of a bunker buster pure cluster bomb (failing which there is always the nuke in the cupboard) but this just the beginning every true alpha needing its omega its sky raining gamma needed to sort out everything unspeakable that crawls yes my dear saviours in your sanctified flavours need to demonize every farm imsect out here every stick of farm produce every evil land mime of flower only B’s Heavenly true propaganda hits the spot righf spit can correct my poor eyes attune to the power show things as really are.

THORNY

so much
ice in nice
in splice
and lice

barely
suffice

and there it is
in police too

shows what the brain
can scrabble through

a rose
by any other name
would be as thorny

thorns can do pretty much
all the bad
that barbed wire do

STAR TURN

star of your poet
star of your king

how could you
have let it get
so
lop-
sided

fall
into a black hole
become killing machine?

suck us
all in why don”t you
become all of our
writing

on the wall

sucking us in like
it was all pre-destined

sorry if we feel
no rapture at all

A CLUEDO (HAVEN’T GOT)

A CLUEDO (HAVEN’T GOT)

deduced it in no
time

saw it clearly it was
either Plum that went
shapeshifter
eliding, gliding
between
the kitchen (pots
still greasy)
and the games room

turning up at the table
through
the fourth wall

or could be
Mustard, that die-
hard Imperialist with the
old Western front Vickers
water
-cooled machine gun

defending the pantry against
whatever
latest horde of savages

took out Ms Scarlett and
Ms White

ebony and ivory in
their delightful negligees

wandering aimless into
his line of sight
in persuance of
their tryst

or Green could have done it
C of E but some old Catholicism
at root there

         adding a twist of hemlock
to that holy wine
(cardinal
   not working out, we’ll
smoke that
one out
               bring in another)

or someone in the garage
with rolls royce style
handy wrench

call murder murder
a spade a spade

a wrench a bloody brain-
fragment spattered wrench

and me
with my candle card yet again

with
such bad eyesight
cannot make out a thing

CHORAL

preaching to the choir,
still you had
better not
stray, stick
to the script

for as made
exactly clear
during your last
fulmination

they came armed as asked:
packing many bibles,
two
rifles for each

FORWARD

FORWARD

push
the clocks forwards
ten thousand years

see
what happens

if nothing, the world is unchanged
the feared nuclear
apocalypse
never happened

or it did
and only

set us back
ten thousand years

A WORD

A WORD

forgiveness:
now there’s a word

the dead
do not forgive

cannot
forgive

memory is frozen
in that cold posture

in time
with time

the living
might forgive

but the maimed and
mutilated

theirs’ is a horror
beyond speech

HYMN

HYMN

Move on
move on

nothing here
cruel and unusual

play
with your mantra
sing your beads

tanks and missiles
on the Holy Mountain

so much
sand for your mandsla
here where
deepest dug in.

THERE BE

there be satirists in the land

rare, ’tis true,
but nore plentiful than dragons

and Oh so easy
to avoid them!

not an issue
to learn to steer clear
of their usual habitats

can dodge
them readily

neither lithe, nor elusive, like
Australian brown or
African black mamba

and nowhere near
as outright venomous

step over them freely
my brothers, my sisters

though they
hiss and may strike

nothing to fear here at all