The Remained

Even in the unfair fall
of rain on the night – of
discharged un-loadings –
after the torches lit
the memorial bonfire –
the three wives of war
will be still – to remain
without any complaint
about huge losses to
King or Country –
or other such standings
of the state’s manhood –
that stupidity of men
Keep back from
the lightings and fusings
of the electrical lines –
It is as if God was unable
to save the widow wives

Sussex, September

The unstable season
of rookies, fireworks,
and Sussex smugglers
has set off in Uckfield
under a sluggish cloud
of torch-raised smoke,
in imbricated ranks
to the drums and hollers
of the oddly-uniformed,
dressed for rememberance
and celebration of times
when Sussex mattered:
then the littering residue
of this lit revolution
is ineptly swept aside
by shopkeepers fighting
the wind-tipped slews
of firecracker paper.

Bonfire 2016, Lewes

“A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong
gives it a superficial appearance of being right.”

Thomas Paine, former Lewes resident.


Here – trapped again –
clipped at The Swan
with a Liquidators track –
a requested song –
ska for the drunks
who cannot dance –
especially the white
low-middle-class –
and those blacked-up
for bonfire fun –
hoping to upset
everyone –
White men as black men?
Not very ‘clever’ –
please torch the cocks
and their racist feathers

E021118


Allhallowtide & Halloween


With more martyrs to count
than days in the year,
they all got rolled up
into this ‘Christian’ schmear:

Another scam to buy
more shite from the shops,
(once just a mask
to hide your face from a corpse).

Wear neighbours’ patience
really thin,
your kids making doorbells
ring and ring –

those normally just rung
by Parcelforce,
and Jehovah’s Witnesses
(of course):

This excuse to eat treats,
and fatty gloop,
with the fasting for martyrs
lost in the loop.

So roll on Bonfire Day
with no pretence of faith,
except in the Gods
who’ll make sure it won’t rain.


 

Rookies

Friday, I think, I partied late in the night,
throwing rookies with kids, to their delight:
A crafted toss of farmers’ munitions,
as parents blew cancer cloud emissions:

One screeched at her child, ‘Stand well back!’
(a danger she glimpsed through her cig-smoke-stack).
I showed a lad how to light the short fuse,
quick fingers gripped the lit-fizzing tube.

That rookie he tossed into uncut grass,
flame-furious complaint pre-empt of blast:
Exploded jump-thump of pressure on chest,
the rook scarer’s life, an explosion, no less.