Today we are Captain Pugwash Britain
~~~~~~~
Image © Ted da Yonga 2016 Quote © Gail Foster 2016
Politics
The Democracy Lark
The sweet song of the democracy lark
Once told of a bright and hopeful dawn
Now there is only a strident bark
And the whimper of sycophants that fawn
And worship the Trump and his massive wad
Lovers of money, with racist views
Vote for Mammon’s dodgy God!
The democracy lark is singing the blues
© Gail Foster 2016
God Help the Disunited States
Call for the Dalai Lama, Christ
Mohammed, and the Fates
Call the Druids, call the Rabbis
Call the angels, and their mates
Call the scientists, the physicists
To measure and collate
Call psychologists who understand
And artists who create
Call the clowns who see things sideways
And the writers who narrate
Get them sitting round a table, midst
The wildly spinning plates
With biscuits, tea, and fairy cakes
And someone to translate
Doing icebreakers, and mindfulness
And role play, and debate
And let them come up with a miracle
This madness to abate
To stop the Trump thing in his tracks
Or trip him on a trait
For Hilary’s annoying
And her shiny hardness grates
But Trump will make the USA
A horrid hell of hate
Let’s hope that this committee
Of all the good and great
Who wield the wisdom of the world
And spiritual weight
Can devise some cosmic strategy
The Trump thing to deflate
Before America becomes
The Disunited States
© Gail Foster 2016
Apple Barrels
*
Some apples make cider
And some apples not
Some ferment as expected
Some do not
There may be statistics
I suspect not a lot
That predict the existence
Of possible rot
Schrodinger’s cat
Is wise to the plot
A cat in a box
Or a wolf in a cot
In the barn there are barrels
To keep cold or hot
The cider is coming
Ready or not
*
by Gail
Corbyn’s Muses
What ridiculous term will the media come up with to describe the women in Jeremy Corbyn’s shadow cabinet?
These are my thoughts on the matter…
*
Don’t call us Babes, such nonsense just confuses
We’re equals standing side by side with men
If you must, then coin us Corbyn’s Muses
Inspiring hearts and minds with voice and pen
We’ve got here through integrity and toil
Intelligence and knowledge of the game
We’ll labour endlessly for British soil
Don’t denigrate us with a silly name
by Gail
Corbyn’s Labour
From something old
Comes something new
A different shade
More red than blue
From Old Labour
Borrowing
Good favour
And
A following
*
by Gail
Out of Line
Regarding the alleged naughtiness of Lord Sewel, former Deputy Speaker of the House of Lords and Chair of the Privileges and Conduct Committee…
Out of Line
“Order, order!” he shouted “We’re all out of line”
“I’ll see to that” quoth the whore
“And if you’re a good boy we’ll do three in a bed,
You can snort off my titties and more”
Oh silly old Sewel you poor addled old fool
So clearly misguided and randy
That the question of cash and the secretive flash
Were obscured in a cloud of nose candy
by Gail
Fair Game
*
Tally ho boys, sound the horn
The fox is on the run
Who let the dogs out
On a killing spree for fun
Tally ho boys, we’re entitled
We few, we happy band
To terrorise your wildlife
As we trample on your land
*
From the hedge a wordsmith
Chuckles with defiance
Cropping out the ‘orsie’
From the ‘Countrysidealliance’
*
by Gail
Tin Pot Dictator
Just stood on a stage and read this at the Devizes Festival Poetry Slam…
You’re a Tin Pot Dictator, you’re Kim Jong Un
Blasting me to pieces with an anti-aircraft gun
For momentary guard slip and forgetting of pretence
Public execution for your Minister of Defence
*******
There were less dramatic options, like demotion and sacking
Not as entertaining, mind, as death by ack acking
As for that piss take poster in the Ealing barber’s shop
You’d show them a Bad Hair Day with a more severe crop
*******
You’re a Tin Pot Dictator, you’re that bloke Pol Pot
Who tried to turn the clock back to Year Zero, or Dot
It must have been torture, being rubbish at school
So you got rid of all the clever ones that made you feel a fool
*******
Clad with a well cut uniform and medals on your chest
A gun, a throne and megaphone you’re better than the rest
Making up for all those failings that you feel so acutely
Power that tendeth to corrupt, in you corrupteth absolutely
*******
You’re a Tin Pot Dictator, going by the name of Vlad
As in Lenin and Putin and that weird Impaler lad
You’re Saddam Hussein and you’re Ho Chi Minh
Declare resistance to be futile and dissent a sin
*******
Flatter your enemies lest they stab you in the back
Equip the walls with ears to hear what loyalty you lack
Hide the Stasi in the khasi to hear the shit go down
Watch for subtle facial movements like the nuance of a frown
*******
You’re a Tin Pot Dictator, but Godwins Law states
That the first to mention Hitler loses rational debates
From bad art and rejection came forth carnage we presume
Stick a moustache on the elephant in the middle of the room
*******
Rally troops remaining, keep the enemy at the gate
For there just might be a coup and it just might be too late
There are movements in the corners of the bunker in your mind
Where one eye is always open in the kingdom of the blind
*******
You’re a Tin Pot Dictator, mowing down the picket
You’re the warden who gave a crate of vegetables a ticket
Pass the tar and feathers if I ever call you Mate
I am the voice of decompression in a Tin Pot State
by Gail
