One Brit’s Joyful Moan

god, I hate the way
the faiths and creeds
are always on about
bleedin’ sharin’
as if, ya know
y’d hafta do it, like
eatin’ spinach
when you’re a tyke
when in fact
sharin’s the bees knees
somethin’ to putchya
in extasies

and it’s daft anyway
since everyone knows
we never do what we’re told

if they had any sense
they’d tell us
never share
but I guess they
woudn’t dare
cuz the pope’d go spare:
sod’s law




Oh look, Narcissus is laughing…

It’s always that one
isn’t it?
Not poetry, really
More just that one poem –
that one line you want to write –
that one that will find the way
to slip under the radar
into the day after
steal across the border
without you.

That one that will say
I was here, dammit…
Remember me?

Oh, at the best of times
that isn’t what you want to say –
and surely
but of course
it stands to reason…
shit, it stands to more
than that even…

I mean, wouldn’t we all
like to be the one
to bring this wretched
creature – this vain, subhuman
truly wretched race we belong to –
to its senses?.

Crying Save the peacocks
Save the owls
and save the loons
Save the gibbons
and baboons
Save the canary, the family cat…
Dear gods please save ..IUS RIDEAT.  




Sunday Lunch – This Way Madness

These perfect tomatoes
that taste like tomatoes
used to taste…
these perfect red baubles…
a lttle salt…
I feel so guilty
in this pleasure
somewhere in some
US blacksite
an innocent
as innocent as this fruit
is being tortured.

The world is rotting
but the stench
hasn’t reached here yet.

Listening to the birds
seems almost too wonderful.
Seeing the garden’s reflection
and ricochets of brilliance
over my sweet man’s shoulder
in the tall mirror…
I feel almost criminal
in my enjoyment
knowing Truth personified
languishes without sunlight
in a cramped basement
for the crime of exposing
the corruption that led to the victory
of a dangerous lunatic
whose god is Mammon

Is HE to blame, the Aussie?
Of course not –
or blame the weather man
for the weather.

All my simple pleasures
shakled by the depravity
that has gained the high ground.

The helpless hang themselves
but I am not helpless
…my dispair though seems
to be braiding itself
into a raving madness.





Shanghai Mirrors – or why I cannot write

I am that coffee cannister
with no coffee left in it

The wound is too deep for salt
and I find metaphor an embarrassment
while truth is circling the globe
on a treadmill in a basement
biting its nails –

There aren’t enough nails
for the coffins
of those bearing true witness
and the oblique speech of poetry
falls like a broken arrow
at the base of a sequoia

The nightingale lies red-breasted
bleeding from the heart
on a smoke-filled field amidst rocks and tin cans

Everywhere, shivering crowds pledge allegiance
to the virtual flag of the state of fear

Learn, children of the prophets
learn to treat every promise as a lie
Learn to treat death as the end of all self
Believe that when you die, you die.
and your courage shall be your salvation
your release from the anxiety
of knowing what you do not care to know.
Stand Pascal on his head
to save the world from dread.

Poor Jesus now carries Zionism on his back.
Dear flagellated Atlas,
there are no jews in Israel
only colonizers, settlers
disrespectfully unsettling
down to the bones of genuine semites

There is no sin, save ignorance
and words are our only weapons

Hatred of the hateful is no victory
Love is out of reach –
at least we might muster pity

Would that I could sail away
from this degenerate world
in the hollow of my own heart



Friendly Persuasion..

You have been made to want a car. A new car. A polished thing that swerves out at you, smiling its chromium smile near some amazingly vacant sidewalk. Glitz camouflaging the unseen struggle. As in the quaint old days when invading European vandals [come to rape America] held out trinkets that caught the light, today painted panels big as dirigibles stare you down on all sides, and you, like the naked guys with a few feathers, you buy into this shit. They traded their land, their birthright, their everything for a string of shiny beads – and you? What do you sign away your true freedom of movement for? The pressure of loan payments ? Turkey! They’ve roped you in with oversized toys! Today’s billboard is the equestrian statue of yesterday – the sly, potent reminder of who is actually running the show. [Corporate fascists?] There was a time people had the collective courage to topple the unscrupulous, but you, you just stand there and drool. And your wife? Well she hardly has an authentic personal life, so enfatuated she is with the lives of perfect strangers in magazine photos. Mr. and Mrs. Jurkem.


[As I am proud of my native American blood, please understand this is storytime,  not an altogether accurate accounting of history. The case might be made that the native people’s thought the newcomers mad as hatters to believe Mother Earth could be bought and sold in such a way.]



thinking is a dangerous and expensive practice

a buncha guys
got together once
a long time ago
to share some
stories they’d written –
little plays and shit –
and one guy
had the bright idea
that they should
sort of keep them together –
like in a folder
or – hey – a book!

But they didn’t know
whose name to use
so they laughed
and agreed to say
god wrote it – haha
and they’d just call it
The Book.

Weird thing is
coupla thousand years later
a buncha people gathered
a buncha plays
and put them together
in what was later called
The First Folio

One guy wrote
that the content represented
the soul of the age
which was pretty accurate
if you could speak only English –
soul of the anglophone age?

They agreed
to have a laugh
on history by saying
the masterpieces
were all written
by a guy who could barely
sign his name –
couldn’t even spell it
for fucksake!
His name was – more or less
and he ended his life in
a comprehensively boring little burg
that has since become
a billion dollar
theme park!

so I guess you can guess
what name wound up on the cover, eh?

Henry James said
“the divine William
is the biggest
and most successful fraud
ever practiced on a patient world.”

but I say it was
only the second biggest.



America you are in it up to your eyeballs!

You think fascism
arrives in shiny boots
with funny salutes


is Pepsi & Coke

[not to mention
Koch and Koch]

is when the levers
of your government
are in the hands
of the likes of Unilever…
Apple, CitiCorp
Johnson & Johnson
Wells Fargo – name your favourite
[name any biggie you know!]

and if the devil had an alias
it would surely be



you need proof we are made in the image of jehovah ?
take a gander at man’s behavior the wide world over !
we can’t do earthquakes – at least not yet 
but as much harm with a bomb and a jet
and we do and we do and we do

guess we must be made in the image of our god

we can’t do diseases half so well 
but we can cripple and maim to almighty hell 
and we do and we do and we do 

guess we must be made in the image of our god

nor are we ashamed to procreate with young virgins
or indulge in genocide when the fit is upon us 
just like His most recent creation 
a species surely made in his likeness

god wreaks havoc and death on man –
lingering deaths – infantile paralyses and worse –
he ignores 99.9 % of all prayers uttered 
and so does man – to liken him to a wolf 
is slander to the wolf, for man is a godlike thing

and mighty effin’ proud of it too. 



[if the last would be first. . .]

if the last would be first. . .
does that mean
the first would necessarily be last ?


could they then just be second ?
You know: the guy from the back
coming up to the front
like a relay race or something?

First, then second, isn’t such a bad deal
and the guy from the back
who’s now in the front
[having become the new first]
will soon wind up second too
[so he’ll know what that feels like]
…and from second to third isn’t such a bad deal either

By the time you’re halfway down the shoot
you’ll also know [unless you’re
a hopeless dummy] that one day
[if you live long enough]
you’ll even get to be
First again!

…because otherwise
if the last shall be the first
only by pivoting
the entire ice-skating line
all at once

…then second from the Front
becomes second from the last
third one way, third the other

blah blah

and the poor bastard
in the middle
spins like a top
and never gets
to try out

a god damn thing!



Stand up, man!

All the clergymen
pastors, priests, vicars
and so forth and so on
are afterlife insurance salesmen

religion exists only
because men are chicken –
can’t face it
what comes after this
vacation from oblivion
they want to trade
round-trip ticket
for permanent one-way
they want to bloodywell stay
death the sting
in all their to be or not to be(e)s
and ours the most foolish race
of weak-in-the-knees!