Delaying the Inevitable

I want my country back. I want it to be great again; it feels so different now. I hear conversations on the tube I never used to hear, and it makes me uncomfortable. I want my country back I worry that we’ll forget what “British” really means. This isn’t what that generation fought for, not so long ago. What would they think if they saw what we’ve become? I want my country back They’re not like us at all. They don’t fit in. They don’t even try. They’re just out for themselves. They don’t play by the rules. They don’t care about our values. I want my country back. I want to take control. I want things how they were in the good old days. Cold nights, warm beer, drizzle underdogs and queues. Sarcasm, lack of respect for authority. Inclusivity. Diversity. A country that welcomes your contribution to society whoever you are, wherever you’re from, whatever your faith. I want my country back. T...

The morning call to prayer drowns out the chatter, the children, the cockerels; at least for a minute. How many pleas will go unanswered today? Five times the Adhan will ring out across the camp, and they will come. Unwaveringly. Resolutely. Religiously. Who are we to judge? Stuck here in the dust between two lands. Unwanted; surrounded by enmity and apathy. Where else can you look but up, when all your terrestrial options are spent? When any solution is mired in the petty politics of race, religion and region whilst we cling to our own part of this insignificant rock, speeding through space at 600 kilometres per second. On the sprawling hilltop opposite, the sun glints off corrugated metal; a shining beacon of inequality in a world that could do better. In a world that hasn’t learned from the past; where our “never again” became “never somewhere close”. And where even that seems less achievable than ever.  So, I too look up. And pick out the ki...

Special Care Sam do you remember all   your time in Special Care? Would you recognise the  voices of  the nurses working there? Would  you  recognise  a   photo from  your first night in that place -  a   tiny  mass  of wires in   a   huge clear  p lastic case ? Do you have a distant  memory of   that frantic afternoon -  when  you put in an appearance nearly  fourteen weeks too soon? And  Sam do you remember when  I came to visit you?  Your  proud  but  frightened  sister I just didn’t have a clue. “When will his eyes be open?” and  “W hat’s that beeping noise ?” “When will  my baby brother get  to play with baby toys?” Sam, you won’t remember how  I thought I was to blame when  Mum and Dad were crying while  deciding on your name. They answered all my questions but...

Memory Foam Paler patches where pictures used to hang, compacted carpet, footprints slowly fade. Silence fills the rooms where once she'd sang and weeds reclaim the grass on which kids played. The mattress on the bed is memory foam - he hopes that it will still retain her form; but bricks and wood no longer make a home - this house will never get to be so warm. So here he is, he's lying on his side with arms outstretched across the empty space - he never thought the bed could feel so wide without the promise of her love's embrace. With life so short, our time ticks by so fast - how long can our impressions truly last

Ears flapping in the breeze; tongue  out, tasting the fresh air rushing through the window crack. The excitement of the journey. Don’t tell him we’re going to the vets; let  him enjoy the pure thrill of just going. Until the reality of the destination dawns. Just like growing up.

We planted the flag, but it didn’t grow Oh no! Let’s find something different to sow We’ll pull up the drawbridge, we’ll turn off the lights We’ll round them all up and we’ll read them their rights We’ll build a huge wall, and we’ll get them to pay (But if they say no, we’ll push on anyway) We’ll strengthen the army, campaigns will be planned (For ease we’ll find foes that are closer to hand) And when that’s all done, we all should unite One country, together, to fight the good fight

*sighs* *shakes head* *tuts* *sighs some more* *drinks* *tuts louder* *writes a sonnet* Riding the Tiger In our world of post-truth, with wool over our eyes we should all go and see if the land truly lies. "Debates" are a shit-show; the "experts" are stumped, there's no place for fact-checking, when facts can be Trumped Government's clogged: nothing's passing its Khyber - it's diet is lacking enough moral fibre. So how will we get their position to shift to one where a right is a right not a gift? Where all life is sacred, not just life in the womb Where those fleeing warzones aren't told "NO MORE ROOM" Where spiritual leaders can give their hot take on social injustice, not just words on a cake. Because if we can't, if it all is in vain, We'll have forgotten the lessons of "Never again"

So, it's Burn's night. I've always felt a particular affinity with the Scottish people, mainly because I really really like fried food. I also like Haggis, as documented in this poem: Address to Haggises In General Haggis is such a tasty treat For connoisseurs of oddball meat Scottish folk are always pining For offal served in stomach lining Haggis that’s grilled, haggis fondue Haggis en croute, haggis in stew Haggis deep fried, Haggis dry roasted Haggis concasse, Haggis that’s toasted Haggis tempura, Haggis by Heston Haggis with extra assorted intestine Haggis that’s stuffed with Haggis rilettes Haggis paninis and Haggis baguettes It’s true that if I had my way I’d eat some haggis every day 

*SHAMELESS BOOK PLUG KLAXON* So, I've got a new book out, and it's probably the best book about an anthropomorphic wasp who is also Health and Safety Officer. At least it's in the top 3.  Info is here:  https://www.facebook.com/WhyworryWilliamWasp Anyway, in the spirit of Health and Safety, thought I'd better put up some Health and Safety advice for new parents. Because you just can't be too careful: Do not feed babies baby potatoes: I saw a Mum and told her she should wait until he’s older For BabyBel, the same applies (they’re really not a proper size) Do not shower babies in a baby shower: I saw a Mum and told her she should just use soap and water                 But if she insists, I’ll tell her “Try                 to have a plumber on standby” DO NOT ALLOW YOUR BABY TO HAVE BABY BOOMERS ...

He rakes the soil and picks off stubborn weeds and lays a cane across the flower bed. Pressing down, he makes a shallow drill and waters where the seeds will soon be spread. He picks the seeds his kids had bought for him and spaces them with care along the line. He stops a while to try and catch his breath, then slowly stands and marks the row with twine.  His clothes hang loose from his cachetic frame; the doctors say the cancer has now spread. He’s sowing plants he will not live to see, as are we all.

Midlife Crisis When I was young I often thought I’d be a plucky astronaut But the wildest trips I’ve had to date Have been on the A68 When I was young I thought there’d be Just one true love out there for me But I didn’t have to travel far I married Sheila from HR When I was young I thought there’d be No need for sleep for folks like me, And in the end I was kinda right The baby stays up half the night When I was young I didn’t see What the future had in hold for me A doughy joke, devoid of plans With a CV written in comic sans When I was young my life was great Without so much dumped on my plate Without the pressure bearing down On my shitty house in this shitty town Pressure to try and clear my debts Pressure to give up cigarettes Pressure to bring the kids up right Pressure to make verse rhyme and scan And as my time slowly advances I’m looking out for second chances To start to wrestle back control To pull me out ...

You were my first             I hope you didn't realise at the time             fumbling ,  flustered, faltering                        you probably did Totally different from what I expected             fear in my eyes             and in yours                        till the end Chaos followed by silence             a silence so complete, so pure, so absolute                                       and then back to work             replaying events in my head                             ...

I was trying to explain to our four year old son why I was heading off to Africa for a couple of months to do some humanitarian work, and ended up writing my thoughts down a bit more formally so I could get them straight in my head. FOR JAMIE When I was young I watched the stars And wondered if there’s life on Mars I thought it really would be ace To live my life out there in Space I imagined us - all cast astray Our tiny rock in the Milky Way Spinning with an awesome power At over a million miles per hour. And I realised just how small we seem A humble part of the grandest scheme Inconsequential – or so I thought With time so long but life so short When I was young it seemed to me The simplest way for humanity To survive in our small patch of Space Was to unite -    one human race! I thought: “Who cares what tiny part of this tiny rock hurtling through the Universe you come from? We’re all in this together! Together we c...

This question has baffled scientists for centuries. Now, in the 21st century, we are getting close to finding an answer. Here is the latest evidence, in poem format: WHERE DOES THE SUN GO AT NIGHT: Where does the Sun go at night? I really hope that he’s alright I’m worried as I have been told The Sun is very very old I asked my Dad, he said “Don’t fear He’s in the Southern Hemisphere” But I’m not sure, and that’s because I also asked my friend from Oz - He said my Dad should change his tune As in the night, they see the Moon Where is he then? I’ve had some thoughts  I’ll need to check with astronauts (I hope I find some time to quiz them About our super solar system) If I were the Sun and had to choose I’d just chill out and have a snooze

I really like cheese. It's not deep, it's not meaningful but it's true. Scientists have shown that cheese contains all the major food groups. Here is a poem about my love of cheese: CHEESE IS MY FAVOURITE TYPE OF FRUIT Cheese is my favourite type of fruit From Chile, Greenland or Beirut There’s no dispute, you can’t refute That cheese is my favourite type of fruit Waxy skin or grated fine, Taken with a glass of wine, A cracker? No I must decline, Just by itself will be divine. Cow or Camel, Yak or Goat Any cheese will get my vote Moose, or Sheep, or Buffalo, Spready? Steady! Let’s go! Red or yellow, white or blue Grilled on toast, or in fondue It smells of roses, or of old shoe? I’ll eat any cheese, I’m telling you! Except Parmesan I don’t really like Parmesan