status update XXVI

Cruise at the food bank, mission impossible
can’t figure out who he thinks is responsible
worked his whole life and couldn’t work faster
ended up fighting over a bag of pasta

I’m an oil baron with a pocket politician / jeering at the dreary predictions / while stashing profits and stalling transition / crux and caviar and cigars all round / as I scorch the air and torch the ground / till the smoky day inevitably comes / when the air is filled with scary drums / and by the pricking of my thumbs / something furious this way comes / and I blanch and shriek and slam the doors / of the country bunker with ingots underfloor / I mean – sure / I made billions but there’s nowhere to spend it / and a storm is breaking and it’s too late to mend it / so I take out my antique revolver and end it

You broke out the ouija board
scratched the itch
the seance went without a hitch
a blast of cold air and a frozen witch

What’s that you say, Scarlett? / something about the UK market? / tomorrow’s another day? / well o-kay / but c’mon / things have moved on / even you can see enough’s enough / we’re tired of the same old trickle down stuff / the constant beating and retreating / the constant bullshit business meetings / CEOs like melanoma / rooting deep and taking over / but watch out / they won’t go easy no doubt / he who laughs last might well laugh longest / but a police response is always strongest

I’m the sneeze in the shopping mall
the greenie in the lamp
life-sized Lego tanks rolling off the ramp
skies of blue, seas of green
in our Trident submarine

Mary Poppins says come on! spit spot / when I clap my hands, show me what you’ve got / in your carpet bag or eastpak or whatnot / don’t be shy and don’t be clever / no is final but yes is forever / that’s it! let’s see a little more can-do spirit / with a smile and a song I’m sure we can fix it / there’s just enough sugar on the spoon to go round / to help the fluoxetine go down

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