Trump

On Hearing the News that You’re a Great Big Loser

Some poems

Schadenfreude is an ugly trait,
to enjoy another’s ill-starred fate.
In the sea of life, we’re all storm-tossed,
and yet … ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, you lost!

I don’t quite know what happened there:
to laugh at losers isn’t fair.
To win with grace, that’s best by far,
but … ha, ha, tee-hee! Ha, ha, ha!

I apologise for that outburst
but it just slipped out, unrehearsed.
I need to show more dignity.
However … ha, ha, ha! Tee-hee-hee!

Ha! Laughter is a wondrous thing!
What a gift – tee-hee! – of joy you bring!
You’ve brightened up – ha ha! – my day.
Ha ha, tee-hee! … now go away.

Dr Trump’s All-Purpose Miracle Cure

Some poems

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with THE AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF QUACKERY,
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Is your throat as sore as hell?
Lost your sense of taste or smell?
Feel a pressure on your lungs?
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Gremlin

Assorted Poems, Some poems

A gremlin’s meddling in state affairs.
He lives beneath the White House stairs
in a cupboard stocked with fake tan jars
and shelves of tarnished samovars.

He creeps out at the witching hour
to sabotage the wheels of power
and make them turn the way he chooses.
And how his puppetry amuses!

The Gremlin’s own Petrushka doll,
a clown hand-carved to play this role.
A wooden, empty-headed thing!
See him dance as he pulls the strings.

What To Do in the Event of a Gun Attack

Assorted Poems, Some poems

They are hiding under desks again
The school bell rings, the bullets rain
So say a prayer
And offer your condolences.

They are living out the lockdown drill
They are breathing in and keeping still
So send a tweet
And say a prayer
And offer your condolences.

They are lying in the corridors
In the classrooms, gym, and old school hall
So play a round of golf
And send a tweet
And say a prayer
And offer your condolences.

They are laying down the flowers again
Next month they will do the same
So just do fuck all
And play a round of golf
And send a tweet
And say a prayer
And offer your condolences.

A Brief History of the #

Assorted Poems, Some poems

#barcamp #hashtag #FF #best
#wordgame #punfun #trulyblessed
#dingdong #romcom# #HaveYourSay
#pingpong #nomnom #EdBallsDay

#haiku #selfie #squadgoals #hope
#OneDirection #favouritesoap
#BlackLivesMatter #ReachOut #JoinIn
#Sponsored #Starbucks #BurgerKing

#JeSuisCharlie #LoveNotHate
#Strictly #Cecil #Oink #PigGate
#Bowie #UKIP #FoodbankQueues
#Brexit #AltRight #Trump #FakeNews

#Putin #Brexit #NorthKorea
#Trump #Covfefe #GrowingFear
#GBBOonChannel4
#Trump #RedButton #ThirdWorldWar

#Pyongyang #Seoul #NewYork #Berlin
#Brexit #Beirut #Beijing #Turin
#FallOut #Famine #DeathCount #Violence
#JeSuisEarth #JeSuisSilence

Revolution, Inc.

Assorted Poems, Some poems

This social movement protest is brought to you
in association with Pepsi –
putting the pop into popular demonstrations
for generations.

If all that shouting is making you hungry,
try the all-new McDonald’s GuevaraBurger ®,
available now at all major marches.
Just look out for the Golden Arches.

We are also delighted to inform you
of our 3 for the price of 2 offer
available on placards at the moment –
choose from a wide range of slogans,

including “APPLE EACH DAY KEEPS THE FASCISTS AWAY”,
“STARBUCK THE SYSTEM NOW”
and “POWER TO THE PEOPLE, POWERED BY GOOGLE”.
Stay fresh and youthful

even when being brutally beaten by the police
with the soothing balms
of Clinique’s “Revolutionary You” skincare range,
cleansing tyranny since the Ancien Régime .

We hope you enjoyed this protest brought to you
in association with Pepsi,
but before you go, why not enter this survey
for a chance to win

a better world, free from injustice and lies.
Terms and conditions apply.

Tales from the Bunker

Assorted Poems, Some poems

Back in the White House
from the club house,

putting
America first,

he would tell tales
of eagles and albatrosses

and the swagger
of his stroke play.

Hoping to blind
the truth

by kicking up sand
from his bunker,

swinging wildly
out of the rough,

these stories
of eighteen holes

and the ball’s
uneven lie.

As I Grow Old I Will March Not Shuffle

Assorted Poems, Some poems

As I grow old
I will not shuffle to the beat
of self-interest
and make that slow retreat
​​​to the right.

I will be a septuagenarian insurrectionist
marching with the kids. I shall sing
‘La Marseillaise’, whilst brandishing
homemade placards that proclaim
‘DOWN WITH THIS SORT OF THING’.

I will be an octogenarian obstructionist,
and build unscalable barricades
from bottles of flat lemonade,
tartan blankets and chicken wire.
I will hurl prejudice upon the brazier’s fire.

I will be a nonagenarian nonconformist,
armed with a ballpoint pen
and a hand that shakes with rage not age
at politicians’ latest crimes,
in strongly-worded letters to The Times.

I will be a centenarian centurion
and allow injustice no admittance.
I will stage longstanding sit-ins.
My mobility scooter and I
will move for no-one.

And when I die
I will be the scattered ashes
that attach themselves to the lashes
and blind the eyes
of racists and fascists.

From The Encyclopedia of Alternative Facts

Assorted Poems, Some poems

Frankenstein was the monster’s name.
There’s no such thing as climate change.
A solero is a type of hat.
The planet is not round but flat.

Six is the legal drinking age.
Women are paid an equal wage.
Elvis was influenced by Take That.
The planet is not round but flat.

Achilles had a dodgy knee.
Terror comes from refugees.
Insomnia affects most cats.
The planet is not round but flat.

There are no fascists on the rise.
A politician never lies.
It’s impossible to change a fact.
The planet is not round but flat.

Halloween, 2016

Assorted Poems, Some poems

This Halloween, I shall dress as the year 2016
and emit a frightful, fulgent sheen
from my orange-pumpkin-Donald-Trumpkin head.

I shall adopt the gait of Theresa May’s Living Dead,
and howl like a slithy Gove under a waxy moon.
My chest will be scarred with Brexit wounds.

I shall visit all doorsteps across this haunted land
with a leer on my face and a beer in my hand,
like a phantasmal, sharp-fanged Nigel Farage.

A dagger will be sticking out of my back
(the Severed Hand of Boris will still be attached).
And there, trailing behind me, poor fools,

will be the ghosts of the heroes you’d pinned to your walls,
all those pop stars and comics and actors
who filled up your lives with music and laughter.

Alongside them will be the bombed and the drowned,
the beheaded, the starved, the blown-up, the gunned-down,
from American nightclubs to Syrian towns.

So Trick or Treat! Happy Halloween!
If you’re not in when I knock, no fear;
I’ll be here all year.