Tag: #brexit

justice ii

justice delayed is
justice frustrated
so hasten the dawn
of infinite redress
the tariff is high,
the dumb face
with its smile
dollar diving
to market turmoil

so right it’s this alternative history novel and its like imagine if during the period circa 2016-2028 the usa elected a delirious reality tv star as president and he had to oversee a whole load of crises, like covid, the third world war, and the invention of killer ai robots. but the whole time the guy is just on the take and like bombing countries and assassinating world leaders just to manipulate the stock market and own the libs. oh yeah and like the far right / nazis are allied with israel for some reason?!

it’s far fetched tbh, wouldn’t recommend.

reus brexitus 

brexitus rex, a fencepost;
no entry for french blokes
yes hello we are here
it is act two of don quixote
or quixote like quick’s oat
(though i prefer key oh tick,
like chaotic)
in which we ask,
will the windmills we recall
from the first act charge back?
in which we find,
that windmills
don’t charge on poets

happy new year.

i started publishing the poem a year after i started writing it. and as i published, i continued writing, but within a new context. in cervantes’ don quixote, book two was written after book two was published, and don quixote’s resulting fame was part of the story — the other characters he encountered has already read the first book. the first novel and the first example of metafiction. so if you are the sort of reader who throws the book at the wall when the author is introduced as a character, i’m sorry to inform you that this has been part of the challenge novels present to readers since the start.

now is the time

i’m a basic bitch consumer
i just wanna be humoured
eat this pish
it’s a fancy foreign dish
while i appreciate expertise
i’m keener to fetishise
passionate begginerism
call for a strong and stable new era
are the good souls ready
to forget forgiveness
and embrace the love
that burns old epochs down?

dear reader: we embraced the love. it was a shame to burn the old epochs down. but one must live now, in the present. it’s the only show playing.

and aside from one final chorus, this is the end of part two of the love epochal. and it’s a happy ending! please join me in part 3, giletdonism, in which i start a new job, embark on a career as a poet and writer, and embrace gilets in my casual wardrobe.

shilling for a limited europe, my identity fading, delaminated / not drunk, just exuberant. and well nourished

so I was listening to a lot of the streets. shilling for a limited europe is a reference to european bob, from weak become heroes, while also being an ironical statement about brexit. and then my identity fading, delaminated, again, a statement about brexit, but also a reference to the fake student id card i had in 200x that sometimes got me into nightclubs and sometimes quite literally delaminated in the bouncer’s hands. and then the drunk / well nourished bit is basically a cryptic reference to an in-joke i was in-on in high school.

do you still ruminate on in-jokes from your days of underage drinking?

story and sensation is all there is, between the end and the beginning


what is it to be a human? in any instant, all there is are the sensations you feel, see, hear, etc. a temperature, the weight of the earth pushing against your feet or arse, your shirt label on your neck. and then there is the story you tell yourself these things mean. but you know, you could be a brain in a vat being fed false experiences by a computer. and you are free to tell yourself that story if you prefer it.

cursed inadequate chuck-sticking, can’t hold cash either

i can’t really throw. or catch. i’ve got a bit better at it over the years, but i am just not a hand eye coordination sort of person. likewise, i am not designed to use raquets. i once chucked a tennis raquet into the air in frustration, only to catch it with my face shortly thereafter.

i don’t think i have ever successfully struck a shuttlecock. and how anyone can hit a baseball with such a narrow bat i’ll never comprehend.

so it’s little surprise that i am also hopeless at chucking sticks for the dog. yet every time, i’m a bit disappointed in myself. a bit of me seems to believe i’m eventually going to get the knack of it.

the king came with the bangers, we stayed for the ballads

in the 90s i used to take long coach trips. to france, italy, spain. one year, i must have been 7 or 8, for entertainment we got a documentary about elvis pressley. i was instantly obsessed. and then suddenly bereaved – my hero was dead before i even knew him. i cried. i listened to elvis tapes. i got a leather jacket. quite autistic, in retrospect.

i don’t listen to as much elvis these days. but i will always love the king. and if suspicious minds comes on the radio, i will give it my full attention every time.

jerk foul, jerk fish, take the pineapple express

i had jerk fish and chips at a carribean themed restaurant and it was really nice. best fish and chips ever probably. there must have been a pineapple chutney or something. it reminded me of roots manuva’s witness (1 hope). and to avoid accusations of plagiarism, i named the verse ‘witness (1 dope)’, me being the dope eating the jerk and summoning the power of banana clan.