Once more....

Once more unto the breach dear friends once more
One Mili band of brothers, Ed with Balls has rallied to the cry;
Cooper and Healey race to save the day and Eagles soar,
And Burnham will to Dunsinane or with Alexander stay to view the field of English dead
sacrifice of cameron, clegg and cable; osborned under an Autumn sky.

Whose blood is this that drips from welfare's shirt and stains the house with red?
can only be the weaker and the poor which pay the fee
whilst lords so rich to havens they will flee
resting only to collect some tax allowances
to speed the way and nestle over seas
cradled in the stink and foulest deed
dishonoured banks that hedge such selfish greed
that festers 'til the end when truth will out;
our gallant few will lead a con-dem rout.

Laser Gang

‘LASER GANG’S RACIST TAUNTS AND THREATS’
(Central Somerset Gazette 29/07/2010)

Glastonbury - the place to be,
tolerant of difference in our society,
warm and welcoming, whoever you are,
a traveller from Weare or in a hippy car,
witches and druids, no one’s out of place,
unless of course we talk about race,
then, it seems, there is a different fate.

Roma, black or asian treated to hate
by terrorists who terrify those they do not rate.
Living safe in Glastonbury, having lots of ‘mates’,
with megaphones and laser guns the weaponry to scare.

You know these people; you need to stand and stare
at someone’s sons and daughters, maybe just next door?
Go and ask the questions, listen out for more
note disgraceful actions, tell all when its found
or jeopardise the 'unity of being' in the town,
sap serenity itself, drive visitors away.
Step forth and be counted, let your anger claim the day.
Challenge, check and testify things done in your name
or the fantasy of Glastonbury will be forever stained.
A diversity collective is what makes it hum and thrive;
lose that sense, the question is, how does the town survive?

on moving on

Spitting venom; wielding a broom,
shards of hatred pierce the room
ricochet dangerously, seeking the target
finding the focus is not stone hearted
but angered by mimicry scorn and display
blinded by clarity just turns away.

Little by little, bit by bit,
relationship splinters, scatters and hits,
destroying the values, the love and the trust.
Damaged, dysfunctional, best left to rust.

Forensically sifting through previous pain,
needing to highlight that insight was gained,
so able to indicate just who to blame;
best move away quietly, to board the next train.

On being sent on a Human Resources training...

Thanks for sending me here for this and that
Not sure that I belong or want to wear this hat;
maybe useful, but not my bowl of fruit,
not wanting to hire nor fire, not sure I fit the suit.
lived there once and had to come away
(if i can't get my head around 'twill be a long, long day)
Lecture starts at page 1 so can only go one way,
endless drone for background, not sure that I will stay.
Tick a box that's useful, minding what you say,
no-one knows the answers until they're out to play.
Now there's a left winger can we get one way up front?
To find the person who at least is keen to join the hunt.
The matrix man and mantra can talk to us at length,
the evidence presented but do they have the strength
to breathe a little life into the role that's on this page
are we looking for a worker or do we want the sage?

oh dear - on Laws and football

Didn't take long for the orange and blue
to find that perfection may not follow through
those well thought out plans at the point of a gun
have quickly unravelled and unlucky for some
or is it bad luck when the public is conned
that their purse has been rifled by those who would don
the mask of preferment and holier than thou
better than you and the truth would avow
so it comes back to bite and can't leave well alone
until all politicians have cast it in stone
Get paid a salary fair for the job
and expenses sufficient that they don't have to rob
until we can trust them we'll just turn away
and drown all our sorrows in match of the day.

when does it start?

Con-Dem (ned)

Con-demned already and the wedding sheets not cold
No blood stains either yet, a marriage one week old
for what will lie ahead with that so fateful kiss,
a pact with devils will make their wedded bliss

no motorcade for those who pedal madly
on tandem sit, the buttock faced one gladly
as he piles the pressure on his once willing mate
to make the cuts, a blood lust he'll not slate

until the voters squeal and slaughter dems once more
whose hand was pumped and squeezed that oily claw
ushered to the ranks of near dead cons to sign
and witness all those cuts on dotted line

all failures will be laid at lib dem door
the ash croft millions help to keep the score
of many minions hanging out to dry
the people say that history cannot lie

so we will know that con-demned feels already
the noose around the neck to throttle, ever ready
to jump back to much safer times upon the fence
now reality is here let the lottery commence

be it dicey dave or long lost kenny clark
to stab the partner with truth that leaves a mark
we looking on will wince and see their pain
the vultures too will swallow most and gain
from that one kiss we hear the cries of shame
as Con-demned libs will burden all the blame

At the end of the road (election night request from BBC Somerset)

The wait is nearly over, time for us to see,
Que sera sera,what will be will be.
All that pent up feeling building up inside
At least will have a vent, one party to deride.
It's supposed to be democracy so we can have a say
Not all of us can win but come back another day.
We proudly state our values, for the many not the few
We celebrate a melting pot, a multiethnic stew
of talent and believers and the morally lacking
and find out exactly the extent of voters backing.
The teams of all observers are looking very still,
those wearing three colours quite frankly make me ill,
but quite soon it will be over, when tensions all laid bare
it's then that we discover that no one really cares.

On passing

ON PASSING

Our dad, a man of action, of determined state of mind,
to climb from humble status, the middle class to find.
Leaving school at fourteen would be the normal way
and start work as an office boy with very little pay.
So if not by education could he stake a place,
then by dint of major effort and a smile upon his face.
Called to war like many and proud to play a part,
but coming home on leave to find their house was blown apart;
his mother killed there instantly, his sister gravely hurt,
civilian losses mounting in London dust and dirt.

In finding his life partner it seems that there was fate,
it was not Mum he went to see, but a sister for to date.
The rest they say is history and a family to support,
a car to wash on Sundays and sport and sport and sport;
as kids he taught us swimming and some friends along the way
and always helped our relatives with whom he used to stay.
When digging in the garden some jobs he'd find for us,
'it'll only take five minutes' meant we'd always miss the bus.
A routine and a ritual were what made our Dad tick,
morning kettle on the gas stove, for electric was too quick,
to get around the garden, scoop the poop and water it.
He’d check the weekly bonfires, with meths so carefully lit.

We had to breathe in big, deep, breaths, on brisk walks on 'The Hurst',
there racing to the gravel slides, to see who'd get down first
and back for tea at weekends, with 'Dixon' on at seven,
to the coast with kites at Greatstone or later off to Devon.
He took charge of the shopping and parked three miles away,
but save a penny ha'penny and that would make his day.
With mum he'd go out dancing, on Wednesday nights, their treat,
they'd quickstep, waltz and foxtrot as with their friends they'd meet;
with bargains bought in January at Simpsons on the Strand
t'was possible to think sometimes our dad could be quite grand,
with holidays at Bailey Farm, near Teignmouth, by the sea
he'd make us all play cricket, then scones and cream for tea;
but even there he'd disappear a phone call just to take,
a business deal or two or three; well what a lucky break.
The timber trade top salesman laid off at fifty nine
he bounced back with a vengeance and did not bide his time,
the forty years of contacts were clearly worth much more
introducing many customers that he had served before.
When finally retirement called, to Somerset he came,
surrounded by the family, a dog to walk and train.

When illness struck our David with Mum he fussed and ran,
as when he managed Stanley Park, the football team's best fan.
The grandchildren were taught the same, both feet to kick the ball,
endlessly to hit that thing up and down the hall,
he'd pester Mum with half sized fruit, or loiter by the sink,
to wash your cup before you'd even barely had a drink.

Before we close some final thoughts to bring to your attention
as Crystal Palace Football Club has yet to have a mention;
along with beans and raspberry canes, all tended with great care
and when it came to 'picking time' a chore he'd happily share,
his stock remark, when job was done, deflecting workers' sorrow,
'I think you've had enough for now, there's always more tomorrow'.

Our dad left us good memories; he always played the game,
So now he's gone we know that life will never be the same;
determined, always generous, that spirit never left,
an innings played with gusto, although we are bereft,
we recognise the character, the good bits he passed on,
the words of tunes that oft he sang, although quite often wrong,
replaced with care, so it became a well remembered song,
that we can sing now to declare a life lived long and strong
and proudly be that family to which we all belong.

Promises to Wells electorate request from BBC

To amplify your voice in the London roar
If its help you need, I'll give you more
of my time and experience cos I work for you
Whatever your colour, whatever you do.
I'll campaign for co-ops more houses and jobs,
And keep you informed with letters and blogs,
Whilst thoughtful and patient, decisions I take
and this is a candidate not on the make.
I'm a teacher, a parent and rugby referee
A perfect package I'm sure you'll agree.
From Shepton, Chilcompton, Highbridge or Street
You'll find me campaigning to capture this seat
To work for the many; not just the few;
By acting together we can get rid of blue.

hopenothate

so a mr boyce will be the voice of the nasty bnp
the racist thugs with ugly mugs will be there on tv
but we don't care what they look like it's the vile things they say
suggesting those of colour should simply go away

the passing generation will be turning in their graves
but old soldiers never die, they simply fade away
our weapons are not pack or gun the vote can win the day
the cross is mightier than the sword, our words will hold the sway

but to beat the evil policies the bnp espouse
we need to rally voters, their anger to arouse,
to campaign hard, to stem the hate, the bnp can't hide,
behind a flag red white and blue, cos with it we will ride.

we too can fight on beaches, we know all about the sand,
no need to get our feet wet though to make our valid stand
we'll send the fascists packing, make sure they stay away
No time now to hang around, get up, let's start today

OFSTED and the HOLEY KOW

Our 'Trust' school is saving neither planet nor trees
keeps sending us paper so our kids will'achieve'
The target of targets, the really must get
Is a long way from happiness we must not forget
For Janet and John have come a long way(is A* required to allow them to say )
that the thing they want most is respect and fair play
So 'best out of everyone' sounds a good call
but let's hear from those who may stutter or stall
in the drive to perfection by the stuffing of heads
to see if they're happy and spoke to Ofsted
I rather expect that they kept from the fray
To let the grandmaster have 'face' on the day

Humanitarian Aid

equality begins when we're dead
check out what bodies in Haiti said
no one seem to say much when we alive
scratching around just to survive
it takes a big rumble way underground
that tumbles our buildings and bodies around
for people around the rich world to say
let's rush out some soldiers to save the day
we'll pour in our conscience add some water and bread
at least those bodies will look like they fed

go back to thinking of those still alive
come up with a strategy that helps them to thrive

GB 4 GB

Roll up, roll up, the election has begun,
Bring forward 3 contenders,to see whose number one,
N.C = No Chance, though Cleggy is his name,
D.C = Di C Dave of fluffy policy fame.

G.B is the Gordon Brown who brought us where we are,
With help of Labour Ministers we think he is the star,
He saved us from the very brink of financial disaster,
Globally the firm consent, that GB was the master.

So step up to the plate D.C with your plan of doing nothing,
Let's make sure the voters know and give you a good stuffing
And nice NC just stand aside, for lib dems dilly dally,
We have our leader good and strong and round him we will rally.

Great Britain deserves the best for the many not the few,
So don't put us in jeopardy by wavering to blue,
That's not the inheritance your children want from you
but faith in those decisions that help us all come through.