Poems

I'm blinded by fury at the world tonight.
I feel my heart beating with all its might.
Wherever I turn I just see human blight.
I can't be the only one, am I right?

Nothing makes sense and the hatred still grows.
There should be an exit, but nobody knows!
My blood still boils as my ink still flows.
I'm one with my anger and, good God, it shows.

Hellfire rains down in an unholy shower,
while git after git are still left in power;
and while this does happen my anger'll still tower —
it's not a small problem to be solved in the hour.

As the clock ticks past midnight, I'm starting to tire;
but I cannot escape from the furious fire.
Oblivion will reign: a nasty, old liar —
a horrible insult to our planet, Gaia.

But still, time roams on and I start to see light,
cutting in like a dagger and banishing the night.
There's a flutter of wings as my hatred takes flight.
I'm free from my anger — for now, at least; right?

(Originally published on 11th December 2020)

Why should we wear a poppy red?
For all the sweat and tears they shed.

Into battle, troops were led;
the aircraft swarmed and bullets sped.

Explosions, sirens overhead;
fiancées, lovers left unwed.

Expected glory. but hell instead!
Over miles of mud they tread.

No-man's land, a place of dread;
flooded trench, now grim deathbed.

Disease and injury were widespread,
mental torture wrecked the head.

Why should we wear a poppy red?
For all their words, all left unsaid
and never to forget the dead,
or sacrifice of their bloodshed.

Their futures, ours — please, go ahead.

(Originally published on 11th November 2018)