Warm and sunny afternoons
are made for doing nothing,
Don’t worry about the washing or
get out and prune the roses,
just enjoy the afternoon.
And feel the warmth of sun on skin,
and feel the gentle, cooling breeze,
that rustles through the uncut grass,
that hides the fences peeling paint,
that frames the weeds between the roses,
Every few years we get the chance,
stroll down the road,
tick another box or two,
decide which toad
will screw us over for the next few,
break promises, most likely send
us broke again,
raid our wallets with glee,
those well-dressed men
who spew smug platitudes and see
no shame in cat-calls, insults, petty
games – he said, she said. Lice!
You disgust me,
you clowns for whom we pay the price.
Silence sits comfortably here,
the lizards bask in baking sun
shading visions of past glories
resistant to the thought of death
caressed by the desert’s hot breath.
Long since gone the steady chip
of hammers, careful footsteps,
scraping trowels, the swish
of sand through sieves;
the scaffolds that spoiled the view.
Ghosts of kings now left in peace
gaze east through dusty haze,
dream of days when gleaming
Parse stood proud, stood tall
and bowed to none,
their epitaphs etched hard in stone,
still whispers echo in the air
cross crumbled bones in tombs
long since laid bare.
A Place of my Own
There must be somewhere I can sit
and ponder how the clouds drift by,
where only wild creature’s cries
break the whisper of the breeze.
A leafy glade, a mountain top,
a rustling stream, a sandy beach,
somewhere that I am out of reach,
a place to sit at ease.
I ask you, where can I just sit
without some worries finding me,
just sit with my own company,
accept my every flaw;
a personal place that’s mine alone,
an hour of time that never ends,
allowing me to finally mend,
and find myself once more.
The Politician’s Prayer
Our government, somehow elected,
Delusion be our game.
My god we’re dumb
But there’s work to be done
And blame to be deflected.
Delay us today our daily decisions.
And forgive us our empty promises,
As we forgive those who make empty
promises in response.
And lead us not into innovation,
But deliver us from progress.
For we have the Ministers,
With the power and the will
To speak bullshit
For ever and ever.