Compliance

To the office, to the shops,
Six days a week, bow 'fore the clock,
Hurry, hurry, don't be late,
They'll take your job,
Exterminate!
You'll miss a bargain,
Push through the queue,
2-for-1,
Though none would do,
Consume or Die,
You need more stuff,
Next-door neighbours'
TV's buff.
Compete! Compare! Strive for more!
Dissatisfaction's clarion-call,
Don't seek free things or freedom, freak,
There might be redundancies next week,
Tug the forelock, fear the Boss,
Know your place and when to nod.

The Watch(un)maker

A follow-on from The Joy of Broken Clocks...

The Watch(un)maker

Cracked glass, broken straps,
Overwinding, mainsprings coil tight with rigor mortis,
Base-metal bezel,
Levered,
Drops and spins still,
Back pops open,
Tiny ruby tori glint, cog-centred,
Jewelled fulcra,
Armatures twitch nerve-thin,
Nudging gear-teeth on,
Or retarding,
Who ever thought time a constant?

Winterworkwalk

Kind of why I left the Civil Service all those years ago...

Winterworkwalk

Woolly-hatted heads held low,
Barging through the still-air chill,
Gloved hands bunched as pocket-fists,
Shoulders hunched, necks snowflake-kissed.
Lowry figures half-time march,
Shuffling o'er the railway bridge,
Cold wind funnels, apex-arched,
Blows and swirls,
Tugs at scarves,
Freeze the toes and frost the ears,
Chapped the lip and red the nose,
Bite the cold-burned fingertips,
Ugg and Puffa, knitted tights,
Polartec on shirts of white,
Hiding polyester ties,
Eyes spill iced tears.

Breathing Space

As a response to a creative prompt by Jani about air/breath, here's me versifying (not far off doggerel, but hey) about having, it must be said, too much to do at times...

Breathing Space (a busy person's lament)

Phone rings, email chimes,
So many people want my time,
"Knock-knock-knock" upon the door,
Letters asking me for more.

Students call, "Assignment's due,
My laptop broke, what shall I do?"
Essays land upon the mat
(Well, electronically in fact.)

And then in entomology,
Too many want my work for free,
"I found this bug, oh me, oh my,
Please will you identify?"

Charities and NGOs,
"Donate, please act, I don't suppose...?"
The issues matter, I say 'yes', but,
Just once could someone else step up?

Booking work for conservation,
Environmental instigation,
Lobbying politicos,
Biffing fascists on the nose*

I do too much, I know it's true,
But then there is so much to do,
The world won't save itself you see,
Even if I hug a tree.

To work from home is mostly dandy,
(And my library's there, that's handy)
 But if I'm ill or take a day,
'Asks' still come in anyway.

So I have to leave and wander,
In the fields and woods to ponder,
Creativities to come -
Daub the paint and beat the drum.

Fire the smithy, swing the hammer,
See the jeweller wield a camera,
Forging words I tell my tale
And then --- exhale...


* Figuratively of course...

The purple people cheaters

In honour of the high-profile by-election happening in my home town, here's a little verse about one of the nastier political parties fielding a candidate, all purple rosettes and small-minded bile... 

Sad old gits

UKIP, U twits

U’re like Nick Griffin’s racist nan,

Too dumb to understand the climate’s changing

So U just bluster and deny it,

And U’re scared of foreign folk,

With their funny food and colours,

It’s sad your world’s so small and petty,

I’d feel sorry for U,

If U didn’t try to trade on

Others’ ignorance and fear.

Fading Eve

Coat, hat and cape hang upon the wall,

The drummer’s on the floor

And I’m above him looking down,

Spread across the blue,

A carpet of normality

Crushed and folded,

Covering the marbled sea and the sky

With clouded regularity,

As unrepentant books of ages

Lean on nothing for support,

And the things that matter scatter.