status update XXV

I’m a punk, cosplay rule Britannia / sugar water hair and saltwater manner / rusty penny farthing with a broken wicker pannier / waving a dustbin lid and spanner / exhausted from fronting / all the laws the government’s corrupting / till I’m dragged from the saddle and tied up with bunting / to a stake at the heart of the midsummer fete / by mad morris dancers who just can’t wait / raging and chanting and dancing round the square / shaking their bells and bladders in the air / as the faggots snap and the straw bales flare / and I wave to the public up in the stands / shouting Come on in, the bonfire’s grand!

A tisket, a Tasket / question? don’t ask it / it puts the lotion in the basket / while we sit with our popcorn and gobble up the shocks / Brad’s gun shaking saying what’s in the box / Gwyneth and her Goopy locks / who kissed a frog and got monkeypox / a bunch of daffs and a box of chocs / this stuff rocks / so just breathe and allow it / maybe like me you can’t live without it / and if not – shrug – it’s finished, over / no credits, refunds, definitely no closure / guilty of underperforming and overexposure / good – that’ll show him / that’s what you get for writing a poem

But hey! Donald J Trump is back on the scene! / introducing a beauty queen / with a message of peace and an AR15 / but he goes off cue / straightens his wig and speaks directly to you / what the fuck does he want us to do? / go home, we love you, you’re very special / but first take your clothes off, I wanna see ya wrestle / shrug – it’s just another monster we made / from recycled films and gatorade / we’re a sucker for stunts and a big parade / it’s a simple question of economics / a firm handshake and flag semiotics / media optics / liberal neurotics / shut up and finish the antibiotics

Relax! / I saw on Twitter Jesus is back / delayed off the plane by an attack of the snacks / picking up socks and a script for Xanax / but once he’s got his sandals straight / and finally made it through the gate / he’ll jump in a taxi and I can’t wait / to see him give his sermon on the mount / on TikTok or wherever the fuck this shit comes out / ‘cos the cattle are lowing, the baby awakes / and they’re about to storm the stable with whatever it takes

I’m buffering on the edge of disaster / a glass of warm water and a sticking plaster / fearing the end but wanting it faster / while Dorothy smiles and sings Somewhere Over the Rainbow / which is sweet and all but I just don’t know / as fantasy destinations go / there aren’t many deals out of Gatwick or Heathrow / meanwhile / I’m slumped in the chair a prisoner of freestyle / spiritually flat, poetically senile / pen as in penile / drooling while the mice are playing / and whilst I love the optimism they’re displaying / all I’m saying / is just supposing / the exits aren’t opening but slowly closing / and the cat’s not sleeping but only dozing

The Legend of Boristannia

Once upon a time
in a land far, far away
from you
the EU
or any notion of accountability
lay a fabled land of limited respectability
led by the warrior Boristannia
dressed in a suit he’d pulled from his pannier
with a nest of golden hair that didst
his mortal minions keep transfixed
because he knew well how to artfully shock it
to make it seem shaggier the more you clock it
and have you reach for the comb in your pocket
because he’s obviously too brilliant to worry about looks
like an Einstein, maybe, or a Michael Foot

just a guess

but I digress

And verily
most merrily
and hail-fellow-well-met pseudo-militarily
in his right hand he didst clasp a trident submarine
that handily doubled as a pegging machine
and a shield cast from the purest pig Latin
that in
times of embattled TV debate
when the questions weren’t falling all that great
and his collar didst feel a weeny bit hot
he couldst wave the shield about his person a lot
until the questioner quite forgot
what it was she’d come to ask
and the moment wouldst pass
and the whole thing feel like a Whitehall farce

and lo! Boristannia’s statue on the plinth
that I’m sad to say these many years sinth
hath been pushed in the harbour
didst formally boast in addition to said armour
one monstrous & mighty
and really extremely quite bitey
I’m surmising
the huge amount of lion
he didst did

Anyway – that’s Boristannia, god forbid
My rent’s due Thursday. Lend us a quid.