Bring Me The Head Of John The Baptist On A Platter

A poem from 2019

How dare you tell us what to do!

To prison with you!

To prison with you!

How dare you teach us right from wrong!

To Hell with you!

To Hell with you!

How dare you tell us we are wrong!

Off with your head!

Off with your head!

Image by Simedblack on pixabay.com

Unloving Crimes

A poem from 1986

dashed my head against a rock

and boredom flew out through the crack

in the skull

take away my personality

and you are left with nothing

throw me into the sea

and see what I care

if I fear tomorrow

then what can I do today

to make any sense of these tortured thoughts

kiss my mind

and you may find that evil spirits will fly

into the hell that they deserve

where will you go

if I throw you away

why do I care about your destiny

do I care or am I an unloving crime

dressed in human skin

stupid people being insensitive to me

me, to you

you, to me

in this deep façade which I call economy

and lust. Selfishness

is making me violent

try not to tip the balance

or you will regret the confusion that follows me

into the second hollow sound of raining in my heart

dash me to pieces please

maybe then you will be happy

Axe To Grind

A poem from 2018

He has an axe to grind

You can hear the sounds

Forcing through his mind

He makes up argumentative voices

Sparks fly as he gets angry with imaginary demons

Cranial screeching drives him self-insane

He's going to leave soon

When he goes out the door

There will be no turning back

Shallow, enraged breaths

He turns the key

And God have mercy on the souls of those in the wrong place at the wrong time

Photo by Eliabe Costa on Unsplash

Boudicca

A poem from 2018

Hell hath no fury like a woman flogged and made to watch her daughters raped

A woman scorned, denied her rights

Brutally treated by the most brutal who trample on mankind without a care

A stolen kingdom, she plots revenge

It simmers and bubbles and boils

Until it becomes a fire burning the guilty and innocent together

A wind ripping apart society

Wild, all in its path destroyed and offered to the gods of earth

Swallowing the offering whole

Victoria, a stone smashed into a rock and shattered

Rebellion meets its end

A woman dies

And I am left to wonder which is the lesser evil

Pitchforks

A poem from 2017

She's a witch, so burn him!

Gods of the underbelly

Gangster disciples

Plebentry maddened by the lust for blood

Red mist

The usual suspects stare in self-righteous flashmobby intifada

Second nature, angry, rolling up the hill

Murderous intent

Weapons of the workers, fire and iPhones

Ablaze

Unholy trinity

Burning wood, hay and stubble

Devilish deities presiding

Half the world laughs

Half the world baths

Half the world snores

Half the world grieves

Half the world bleeds

Half the world gazes at it's navel

Half the world shrugs

Half the world goes about it's daily business

Half the world sympathises

Half the world starves

Half the world rocks

Half the world is abused

Half the world is murdered in the womb

Half the world a whitewashed tomb

God is in heaven while His Spirit roams the earth

Gold, silver and precious jewels

Father, Son, The Holy Ghost

Fire burning wickedness

Sin exposed to the flashlight and erased

Life giving Second Adam, set us free!

Redeem us, a holy people from every tribe

Appease God by your precious blood

We will follow you

We're on top of the world

And so we pray, have mercy on us

Inside

A poem from 1992

There is a nuclear reactor

bound to explode

inside me

unless

it is closed

down

It hurts like hell

inside me

it is breaking down -

That old powerhouse

inside me

I’m not stupid

I’m not a rebel

There is no punk

inside me

There is junk

there is a great

broken wall

a city

safeguarded by the rubble

of vulnerability

inside me

Tumbling down

to the ground

love is not found

a suitable expression

from inside me

There is no voice

to express

to pour out

the thoughts

that pile up

inside me

No ears to hear

No hands to bear the burden

Just a heart to tear away

the final boundaries

of false hope

There is a yearning for daylight

inside me.

Inappropriate Use of the Horn

A poem from January 2017

You're pushing in front of a traffic queue

Inappropriate use of the horn

You're parking in a disabled bay but you're fighting fit

Inappropriate use of the horn

You're pulling out in front of another motorist

Inappropriate use of the horn?

You overtook without indicating

Inappropriate use of the horn

I had high hopes for you but you let me down

Inappropriate use of the horn

You gave me a funny look at the bar

Inappropriate use of the horn

You're new girlfriend is prettier than mine

Inappropriate use of the horn

You earn more than me and that's not fair

Inappropriate use of the horn

You like my brother better than me

Inappropriate use of the horn

Your football team just beat mine

Inappropriate use of the horn

Your politics are different from mine

Inappropriate use of the horn

You are a Nazi

You are abominable

You are disgusting

You are subhuman

I'm chronically angry

I'm permanently indignant

You deserve to die!

Beep!

Beep!!!

Beeeeeeepppppp!!!!!!!!!

Mr Wrath

A poem from 1991

Mr. Wrath

is that you?

Are you back in my house?

Did I let you in

or did you sneak past,

pretending to be someone else?

Mr. Wrath

is that really you?

Or is it a paranoid reflection of me

in the darkness?

Trying to get through to immature people

is like talking to a brick wall.

Why should it be so hard?

Doctor, Doctor!

I feel feelings for this girl

Doctor, Doctor!

I feel people are ignoring me

I see no point in living

I see I don’t want to die

A state of unconscious

might help temporarily

One step forward

One and a half steps back

Mr. Wrath

go away again

I don’t like them

but I like you even less.