Starving Britain

John Pilger did this documentary about the deep poverty in England in 1975 yet it sounds eerily like today.

We have a zombie government , no essential leader Boris immersed in his own world and Rishi Sunak and Liz Truss are bickering about who can be the the most extreme right wing , it is bleak the Unions are striking and their leaders are speaking the most common sense , fuel poverty, food poverty , financial poverty there is no respite or chance due to eroding human rights to protest our way to government change , September 5th will bring no joy only more of the same and worse.

Only Fans

my dog stepped on a bee

grandma killed a drone

with the most excellent pickles

yet I live within

feeding on

Binley Mega Chippy

watching with tears

the people of Ukraine

punished by the despot

as we have our own

tin pot dictator

of inflationary no comprise

parties more of a preference

champagne eton mess

vulgar shits

believing covid in retrograde

the poor keep dying

on the pyre of debt

chancellor grinning

utility meter spinning

on his cosy yacht

let them eat cake

but even that we cannot afford

food bank serenade

whilst they last

until nobody can supply them

we need tractors

to steal tanks

so I can live

and you all can smile

maybe a grimace

a death masque to society

Girls bringing sherbet

raise the camp fire,

blankets spread on 

the ground,

singing dead and door

tunes,

sex chorus behind

rolling orange orb

waiting for the sherbet

Wheatfields

Wheatfields

she hitched  her

shorts the cleft

appeared

and in that moment

all tides surged

today had become

brighter.

Ukrainian girl in wheat field Painting

Pavel Laponog

Ukraine

Painting, Oil on Canvas

Size: 25 W x 35 H x 1.4 D cm

Naked Orange

standing naked in the kitchen

talking on long cable

green wall phone

handset greasy

from pan fried bacon

I needed you

as we spoke

long distance

bare feet paced

on tactile floor

your voice oozed

sweet through receiver

I could see you

imagine you

black neglige

auburn hair

remaining flaccid

slapped to my thighs

as I knew

his cigarette tasting

tongue would be

caressing your neck

hands massaging

needy breasts

you will come home

shower fresh panties

and we would

cradle ourselves in love

on the couch

Denise Carruthers

As you know I love to write and love to read as well , I have known this poet for a while and she is modest , intelligent and a fiercely wonderful writer have a read then follow her on twitter and show her the love

Denise Carruthers

breathing in voices

Judy lay silicone silent

under blanket

her submissiveness unconditional

lubricant with sleeve

my cream cockroaches

flow without conception

inception or growth

they crawl in that

cavity I adorned

colored with marker pens

to realise my own

lost to the dusk imagination

she will not play it down

as I whisper

she will listen

without utterances of condemnation

stroke her face

expression of a blonde bored

I need animatronic

never real

real is a prospect in terror

Judy is subjected

to all my pain

isolation and grief

and will never

need a coffin