Sunday, January 30, 2022

Outer Darkness

Right, this is the last in a series of poems which have used a particular rhyme scheme to make their effect known. Now, if you thought mythology was just the preserve of the Greeks or the Romans or whoever else did you know that the Christian faith is built upon this kind of thing also? The early Church stamped it all out of their history books but it survives in external material and in fact in the first book of the whole Bible, Genesis.

There's always that nagging doubt with human beings and how we fit into the scale of evolution; we're so far in advance of any progenitor that it's highly doubtful we got to where we are naturally. Enter DNA tampering species number one, and then little known, DNA tampering species number two, both breaking the cosmic covenant which you probably best know from Star Trek, don't interfere in the development of alien species.

So, here's what I've been able to piece together from reading undertaken into this subject over the years and I have to say to the creative mind it's highly appealing (the scientific mind will have nothing of it!). We haven't done anything wrong, you see, humans I mean we just got messed round with and then manipulated by some of the most twisted minds which ever roved the cosmos. Oh enough, come on, read my spiel, this is Outer Darkness...

The sons of god came manifest,
From Outer Darkness swaggered
Right across the face our planet
Drunken Groom Night staggered.

Arm in arm they sang a song,
Refrain was wholly vile,
Really it belonged in swamp
With dirty crocodile –

‘We are the sons of god,’ they crooned,
‘We’re here upon your home,
We’re going to take your women,
All four corners this world roam.

We are going to bed them,
We won’t even wed them,
Leaving them in disarray
Whilst we stroll off upon our way;

Earth women are so easy,
They’re vain and love attention,
Give them just a little bit
And they fall your detention,

Offer them the world and riches,
How they fall your feet,
Keen to follow, serve and have
You master of their beat’.

Before they set about their work
Though, council matters dawned,
Attendance was compulsory
If minutes often yawned.

Widely hailed worst meetings
In the history of deep space,
Usually wasting hours upon
Each pointless, empty case.

And here they came in order
Of importance, safe to say
The first stank more corrupt
Than did the last of that array,

god was at the front, behind
A bunch of sneering slaves,
No better than the beasts which 
Poke their noses from dank caves.

Together with them he, ha-satan,
god’s accuser proud,
(Eventually mistaken for
The devil and his crowd),

Crowing how he had the power
Of ruin and damnation,
Better for him would have been
Give darkness a vacation.

Anyway, for those of you
Who know the story well,
He turned Job’s life from here
Into a wretched, woeful hell

Quite unforgiveable an act
If taken on its own,
Compounded irredeemable
When god agreed from throne.

For with approval tacit were
The doors flung open wide,
Abuse whatever human being
Neared you on the tide.

And from there, from this very tale
The floodgates broadened out,
Pillage, rape and hate each other
Stick the trough your snout.

Perhaps it would be easier
If we returned to source,
How evil came into our world,
Its thick and downward course,

The grossest error ever made
Responsible were we,
Adam, Eve tricked serpent,
Oh again the devil he,

No Fall there ever was for us,
No Flood to punish sin,
Tsunami spreading over Earth
When planet crashed our kin.

But that’s to come, along with Babel
Tower to reach the stars,
See the builders aimed to reach
Way station then on Mars.

Sodom and Gomorrah nuked
Not for their wicked state,
But war between the giants
Sealed these cities’ windy fate.

Mount Hermon is our starting point,
They saw it from their craft,
Orbiting the planet Earth
Came into view full aft,

A landing platform right upon
A runway clear the dirt,
Had other alien species
Here already lifted skirt?

Not their problem, not their plan,
They set down, left their saucer,
Stretching, yawning, taking in
A world before Geoff Chaucer.

And that’s a shame for if they had
Consulted quite his work,
They would have learnt that loving God
Was better than Him twerk.

Instead, they worshipped someone else,
Samyaza was his name,
He the real Devil, villain,
Watcher Chief to blame

For all the ill, for all the hurt
From pinch to genocide,
Thoroughly unpleasant fellow
With which to collide.

And that’s our fate, well could be karma,
That this dreaded fellow
Led his brethren oath and curse
And in that manner bellow,

‘We are the sons of god’ et cetera,
Ogling, gazing down
From up above this mountain
On Earth women, be their crown.

Samyaza held his breath, expounded
‘Fornicate to death
These whores and harlots, slags and sluts
And with their dying breath

Inject yourselves now all the more
So they your senses smell,
Intoxicate them with your hate,
They’ll beg you then to dwell

Upon this planet, on this plot,
Our new home let it be,
Away from those Archangels
Never letting us play free.’

A violent cheer erupted,
Two hundred watchers drunk
Upon the thought of ‘how’s your father’,
Touching earth-girl junk.

And so they got right to it,
I’ll spare the details, sure,
Enough to know that nine months later
Giant offspring bore,

These the Nephilim as known
Conspirators our past,
But not the alien species which
Did first our homestead blast.

Oh, come with me you Nephilim,
You giants of new day,
Sex and violence your bedfellows
Mealtime disarray,

For eating flesh and drinking blood
Became the normal new,
Until post-Truth delivered up
A messianic crew.

Samyaza’s children Ohya
And Hahyah with their strength
Subdued the dread Leviathan,
Incised upon its length,

Their own offspring were Sihon
And Og the ancient king,
Thirteen feet in height
His Bashan throne a weighty thing.

And so the Bible speaks this fellow,
Genesis as well,
Is old enough in chapter six
To comment on the swell

These wretched Nephilim were having,
Says that God was mad,
Real angry with them and their offspring
Making Heaven sad,

That he then decided send a 
Flood to kill them all,
Actually he couldn’t for
He was only god, so small.

See, God so loves the world
And us, yes human beings quite,
There is a wrath, there is a rage
Keeps Justice in our sight,

His moral Law across the cosmos,
We born to observe,
But all of that in later chapter
I will to you serve.

For now, we meet another Watcher,
Azazel by name,
Just as evil and corrupt
Samyaza he the same.

Perhaps indeed more deadly,
For he led man astray,
And woman too in her deception
Practiced to this day.

He taught the art of warfare
To those who’d ready learn,
Slaves before they knew themselves,
New prestige they might earn,

He taught the laws of witchcraft,
Demonic in their sphere,
Even good folk know them
Samuel’s Endor Saul to fear.

But most of all he taught cosmetics,
Women how to plaster
Make-up over all their faces
Men to work disaster.

Strange, it never bothers me
As did the Shakespeare bard,
Why can’t women look more pretty,
If their calling card?

Plenty time at beddy-byes
To see a lady plain,
Without blusher, lipstick,
Or indeed eyeshadow stain.

Why should species female
Not seek her more attraction?
Men will forge the same
Illusion, ego their distraction.

The word hung on the air,
For now was not my care,
Although we’d best beware
Wheat’s separation tare,

Instead Archangel Michael,
Chief and right hand of God’s throne,
Was tasked begin a War in Heaven
Watchers overblown.

For cosmic covenant was dead
The water, not just once but twice,
Mankind had he been tampered with
Like vulnerable lab mice.

Samyaza had deceived the world,
Now fruit of his dominion,
Evil rampaged everywhere
Its flux his own opinion.

He the prince, and he the father 
Lies, deceit and murder,
Ego undermining
Self’s Life-giving iron girder.

Gabriel joined Michael,
Raphael was charged by God
To bind Azazel then to cast him
Down abyssal sod.

Uriel he joined the fray,
These four Archangels warred
Against two hundred Watchers
Oh, the heavens fell discord,

So much so that in the fray
Whole planet blew entire,
Smashed to smithereens then form
The asteroid belt its pyre.

Ancient Days, He watched this 
Over with the Son of Man,
From the Abyss lip until
The whole the fallen clan

Tumbled through its dark domain,
Angelic prison bound,
Raguel keeping guard with Phanuel,
Exorcism’s hound.

Among the faithless Abdiel floated,
Faithful only he,
Advising fallen others
Pray forgiveness, claim the key

Unlock their fetters, fly they up
The hole down which were thrown,
If only knew he that their chance
Had now been overblown.

For they were blotted Book of Life,
And so will we be too
If Ego is in charge
When death day fetches me and you,

Old serpent he Samyaza
Will we join in lake of fire,
Second death upon us
Drowned annihilation’s mire,

The teaching has been given
With which we can be saved,
Grow up, replace that word three 
Letters, better be behaved

It isn’t just about being selfless
Though that is opening mile,
But thoroughly repenting for
Our previous life of bile,

Childish outlook on the world
Replaced mature concern,
Not being fooled and tricked
By all the money we can earn.

The Yahwist was a genius,
A storyteller mighty,
But the Flood and Eden Babel
Stories are they flighty,

Humankind no more to blame
Irruption Evil world
Than wicked Watchers from Mount Hermon
Behaviour gross unfurled.

But because we are descendants
Of these wretched folk,
We carry seeds within us
Causing others runny yolk.

And look at what the Fall has taught us,
Guilt for sin Original,
Why would loving Father
Stick a tree so quite provisional,

Knowing that we’d eat the apple,
Fore and aft of time,
It makes no sense, it isn’t loving
Care for all our clime?

The narrative is wrong,
The story quite corrupt,
And in collective conscious
Are we burdened, hands they cupped

Not to then receive the body
Good news of His rising,
But to drink the blood
And find ourselves at court assizing.

We were created slaves,
Progenitors now gone,
And with arrival of the Watchers
Second time a con,

We blame ourselves and fight each other
For that we’ve been played,
Manipulated to believe
We should be e’er afraid,

Look, there I am Shap Abbey,
Lake District holiday,
The ruins are delightful and
The river is a stay,

It bubbles, flows and makes such sound
As heavenly I’ve heard,
If ever peace on Earth there came
Would here make known its Word.

And then I am in Muncaster,
It’s only down the road,
My wife and I in little bedroom
Terrified its code –

Even in the daylight
It feels so ghastly dark,
As though some ghost had banished sun
From ever shining hark.

I’ve only ever felt such presence of
In chapel of Ham House at Richmond
Desperate exit key.

But then we’re in the Maldives,
Bequeathed a sum of cash,
Enables us to honeymoon
Away from England’s dash.

We perch the end of decking,
A seat upon the ocean,
Watching sunset coming on
With humblest of devotion.

We’re exiles in this world,
That’s what I think the scene,
On borrowed time improve ourselves
Or never more be seen,

The gift of life comes at a price
Too heavy for some fellows,
If we mess around each other
Flames consume our bellows.

Look, there I am in tertiary,
First year, no second quite,
Madness has infected me
With spittle and its spite

I feel as though dementia
Is eating at my brain,
I’m only nineteen though
And didn’t know of this refrain.

And now I’m in my bedroom,
I write of it the past,
There’s definitely evil here
My dinner and repast.

The watchers from their prison
Are trying to tempt me in,
Clawing for me their abyss
My awful, horrid sin

Resist the fall into their clutches
Somehow manage I,
Grace divine is working on me
Coming from the sky,

And look at those Swiss mountains,
And at Sorrento’s beauty,
Lucky am I for the chance
To see such, from my duty.

Now suddenly I see
A father and his son,
Approaching Mount Moriah,
Temple Mount before begun,

This binding is no bullying
Relationship of power,
Asymmetrical the two
As the approaching hour

When knife is placed the throat,
Held angel’s intervention,
Surely story here depicted
One of true intention?

The founding myth of three religions
Certain is it not,
Whoever claims so is dissembling
Stupid, dumbass clot!

Right there is temple Solomon,
Ark Covenant it holds,
Destroyed by Babylonians
Who took object for their fold.

Second built by Zerubbabel
Pinnacle temptation,
Jesus overturning tables
House of prayer God’s station

Thoroughly destroyed by Romans
Seventy AD
Anno Domini much grander
Common Era twee.

Remember when I heard this rubbish,
Chosen phrase banal to stop offending
All but Heaven,

Now the mighty minds our age
Have conquered quite entire
Any notion of the past
Consigned to funeral pyre.

Well have at you the future,
Third Temple there to build,
Coming of Messiah Jewish,
Not the rabbi killed.

The Dome of Rock in equal call
Rejects this man divine;
Al Aqsa Mosque such holy site
Non-Muslims fall from line.

And then I saw it come,
The steed Buraq in flight
Carrying final Prophet to
The Temple Mount’s full height.

There he led the other prophets
In a prayer profound,
Strange that is the second time
I’ve heard that worded sound.

Buraq then took him up above
To Heaven’s very stead
In greeting other prophets
Who all recognised he led

For on the face of God he looked,
The others shied away,
Instructions were then given
By the Absolute to pray

And that’s the third time that we’ve
Met that most important word
With all its power and connotation
Hope we may be heard

Whoever mocks, whoever scorns
The person on their knees
In supplication to Almighty
Forgoes exit fees –

Why? For those who pray for better
News upon their way,
Are listened to upstairs
Despite their consequent foray,

They may enjoy good luck,
Ill fortune leap upon their back,
But interceding they for goodness
Their reward won’t lack.

And so I pray for peace,
That truth of origin ours be known,
Until its wide acceptance
Will war sweep the planet blown;

Our enemy is not each other
But deception, lies,
And covering up what really happened
Care for that disguise,

The choice is ours, we can continue
Down the knotted road,
Or else release our bindings
And historic overload. 

Tuesday, January 18, 2022

Every So Often

My colleague, and friend, Paul passed away in December; this is my tribute poem to a great teacher and facilitator who will be missed by many not just me...Every So Often

Every so often we meet someone new,
A passenger fellow or member of crew,
A lowly deckhand standing back of the queue
Or a Captain of vessel more accustomed front view.

Normally all of us are pretty good
At determining the make-up of those in our ‘hood’,
Heroes we worship or villains we fear,
The teachers and pupils who make up our year.

But then we meet someone who transcends it all,
Who speaks the same language both short and to tall,
Who looks upon others with love and with care
Wishing only that all of us serve the same fare – 

That Captain is Paul, and that deckhand is he,
Our passenger fellow and crew member, see
That his warmth and compassion both allowed him to ride
On the crest of a shallow, or turbulent tide.

We’ll miss his example, we’ll all miss his care,
His gentle expression and floppy blond hair,
And his best ever lesson that he best ever taught,
That we’re all of us in his eyes better than naught.

The Lie

Now this one is profound - why, because it tries, and I repeat tries to tap into that sinking feeling we all get when we are being lied to to our face, and know it, and don't act upon it there in the moment. I do think there's a moral law to life and that we're birthed in order to draw as close to it as we can in our lifetime. I also know that lying is part and parcel of mankind's behaviour and something I am fully ashamed to admit I have stuck to in the past when I should have known better.

But, it's that feeling, that sensation if you like when the lie slaps us in the face, well that's what I've tried to capture in this piece which is based on what a student said to me as member of staff when I knew their opposite to be the truth. And so, I launch into an extended metaphor (a conceit?) in which the waves of disappointment and stricture break upon me threatening to drown me beneath their swell. I conclude this is a similar feeling to being 'played' by someone, that sense of hurt and powerlessness we feel when another human being makes us feel like dirt.

I don't like being lied to; I'm sure you resent it too. So why do we continue to do it? In short, weakness of character, for when it would be braver for us to stand up and be counted we often try to hide away in the shadow and the dark. OMG, we're back to ego and Self again, I really must write an extended poem about all that. For now, here's The Lie...

Someone lied to me today,
It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t play,
It just made me feel grey
When someone lied to me today.

I was feeling fine till then,
I was in my workplace den,
I was scribbling with a pen
And feeling fine, till it struck ten.

At that time I asked a question
Which I knew, with polite reply,
The pupil there in front of me
Would give, without being sly.

No career criminal this,
Nor gangster, dealer, crook,
But an adolescent who
Had always played by book.

Now, however, with straight face
The felon chose to tell
A fib, in its mind, nothing more
Than shallow seaside swell.

Without a blink or any twitch
The deviance from truth
Came forth from lips of softness
Uttering its quiet uncouth.

The lie was not a big one
No, no, miniature in size,
But it grew wide before me
When its teller looked my eyes.

And in those eyes, that’s where I saw
The shallow seaside swell
Recede a little, just a touch,
Then gather forth in tell – 

Telling me its falsehood
Telling me its story,
Telling with deceit and
Fabrication’s jackanory.

Breaking there upon me,
Pressed against the shore,
Sandy grit now blocking sight 
Of moment just before.

Still, I blinked through rainy tears,
Stood up, and asked again
Same question of trustworthy child,
Same answer came its ken.

Crashing down upon my body
Second wave took breath,
Plunging me beneath its water,
Suffocating death.

Somehow I broke the surface,
Gasped for air, and asked time last,
The same once more, the same before,
Dishonesty’s repast.

Now the swell had gathered,
Now it spun so wild,
Now its whirlpool dragged me down
When I still spoke this child.

The child never knew this,
They went their merry way,
Off to find their schoolyard friends
To talk, or else to play.

But something died within me
On that day when I was played,
A light went out, a dream was lost,
My future was delayed.

For I came here to help young 
People find a better way
Than I’d discovered at their age
When madness held my sway

I wouldn’t leave till every 
Youngster in my daily care
Held truth abundant over lying,
Best of that beware;

And so I do continue in
My hopeful daily round,
Though unlike former days this job
I’m now no longer drowned!

Some Say

I read this book once which posited that back around the time of the French revolution the storyteller's ego became detached from the life-giving Self, and so all writers became trapped in their own world churning out material which came from this deficient part of their psyche rather than from the broad-minded, whole and mature aspects of the mind. Now I don't know what it was about that argument but it completely took over my conscious thought, and then my subconscious...

Between 2007 & 2016, on and off I tried to write that 10,000 page poem to extinguish my ego which in the end became The Magical Kingdom available elsewhere on this blog. The truth is I came nowhere near to wiping my ego from its position at the very centre of my being because we are simply unable to complete the job ourselves; instead, I watched my son being born and the experience was such that I instantly stopped thinking of myself and put my wife and boy first - now that's leaving ego behind.

Anyway, the darkness came (through Descartes?), we dispensed with God and ended up facing the pointlessness of existence (Waiting for Godot). We could have put God back on the map but instead we fell in love with technology, coming on the back of books, cinema, video games and mobile phone transmissions. Trouble is, they're all ego led and end in darkness, concluding there's no benignity in the cosmos. What do you think? This is Some Say...

Some say it started years ago
When revolutions rolled
Through Europe and America,
New ideas therefrom strolled

Right through our very conscious minds
Before deep dive below,
Where dreams and Limbo intersect
In dumb and stupid show.

Leading thinkers of the age
Infected by such pleasure,
Cancelled out a past which 
Strong societies all treasure.

And that’s the point, ay, there’s the 
Rub, where did this actual start?
At what stage in our history
Did revert we basic part?

When did it become so dark
And dangerous that those powers
Had control of all of us,
Including our grave flowers?

Placing them one side, then 
Taking spade to dig the earth,
Wrenching decomposing corpse
Destroying memory’s worth.

That’s when it came to me,
The adolescent tragedy
In which the Moor, was plain to see,
Behaved he quite abominably

Pulling dead men from their rest
Set upright at friends’ doors,
Carved in chests a hateful message
Sorrow his applause.

But this was puerile effort,
Though a straight line would be drawn
From Aaron through Iago, Edmund
Brains they owned o’er brawn

Manipulating others, 
Through control destroying those,
The good this wretched world
Who would their wicked will oppose.

I used to blame poor Descartes
For the state we’re in today,
Separating mind and body,
Soul left in dismay.

But that’s quite as futile as
The Bard being sole in charge
Of gross absurdity our age
Continuing to enlarge.

No, he was more clever,
Of course, for genius knows
Removing God from our equation
Splatters face our nose.

Look at the Lear universe
Where deity is dead,
Or if indeed exists at all
It on our pain is fed.

And then I blamed poor Darwin,
Scientist of massive note,
Another genius the world
Whole species by his rote.

Or even Galileo, that
Victim persecuted
By a church in need reform
Since Pardoners hirsuted

Conned the very populace
They should have been protecting,
Caused the Reformation
(‘Sola fide’ needs inspecting).

Anyway, it ended up
With tramps beside the road,
Vladimir and Estragon
In need of helpful toad

To show them quite the difference
Tween the two thieves on the cross,
The Penitent with truthful thought,
Impenitent at loss.

Look, we jettison the prophets,
Jesus, God and Ghost,
The final messenger Mohammed
Lake of fire we’ll roast;

There is a moral Law the cosmos
Scatters quite the proud
Imagination of their hearts,
A hardened, wrathful crowd.

The planet is a-warming,
There is no doubt of that,
Its temperatures keep climbing
Won’t be kept out by sun hat,

But if we keep on listening
To ex-presidents like him,
Encouraging our children angry
Back of queue so dim

We’ll end up in the Grimpen Mire,
Hound of Hell our throat,
Tearing it till bloody mucus
Blocks up Dartmoor moat.

We need God back, and on our map
Protecting from above,
Go to John 3:16
And its message there of love

See, Hades, Underworld & Sheol
Lacked any kind of care,
Concern for human beings
Was at bottom their welfare   
They kept them shade and shadow,
Cerberus and deadened judge,
Rhadamanthus his gavel
Tartarean soul sludge.

But with Christ’s appearance 
Came a calendar for man,
We were held in high esteem
Our cannot turned a can.

But what did we do with this love,
This unearned comfort whole,
We chucked it back our Giver’s face
Returned our sinful soul.

By turn of twentieth century then
We thought we’re best alone,
Two World Wars resultant
Miracle a third unknown.

And now we’re in the twenty first,
And twenty years at that
Our faith is in technology
A great big steaming twat!   

It has no love for us,
It simply drains our lives away,
Till one day do we drop down dead
Quite wasted our foray.

People may say nice things,
Our funeral e’en attend,
There eulogise about our life
The goodness we did tend.

You see, the grand illusion
As it ever comes to us
Through social media, likes and followers
Making of us fuss

Was actual planted long ago
When we began to read,
Each paper, pamphlet, book or novel
Then our daily feed,

Quite drawing line our psyches,
Splitting up our minds,
Dividing our subconscious thought
So that it then unwinds

Just like this piece before you,
Writers madder still,
Plundering our crazy thoughts
So we can have our fill.

We’re bonkers as each other,
Relationship is sick,
The writer creates twaddle
Which the reader absorbs quick

But then it got more tasty
When dark cinema was found,
Film now dumping pictures
On the canvas of our round

The moment television sat
The corner of our room
Was when collective sanity
Lit up and then went boom!

Computing followed quickly,
Gaming its coat tails,
Before we’d even realised
New multiverse blew gales.

Forget your meta nonsense,
We’re already screwed
Technology has humped us
And then eaten us for food.

There is no hope, there never was
When mobile phones got clever,
Taking all our time, our heads
Plunged in their never-never.

Never mind the wisdom of the
Ages that have past,
Care for soul and spirit
Through our life until its last

Plunder, pillage, rape
The information that is ours,
Live unto the moment
Planet Earth and then on Mars.

For make mistake it none
That destination is ours next,
Never mind the mess we’ve made
Of this one, we’re all hexed,

Abandoning belief in higher
Power up above,
Content to stuff our faces with
Transmission’s lack of love.

That’s why the rate of suicide
Is smashing through the roof,
Self-harm, depression, gloominess
In charge and on the hoof,

It’s why the news can tell us
That we’re never ever safe,
In life, in death, and in between
Our happiness does strafe,

We’re so inured we hardly notice
We’ve already lost
Our whole entire being
To this behemoth’s grand cost.

Leviathan has managed to 
Unhook from scaly jaws
The ring that kept it tethered
To divinity’s grand cause

It snorts in ire and with its
Massive pitchforked tail
Floods us extra water
On our homeland’s system frail.

So alone we feel,
So utterly devoid of care,
We even think the planet
That we live on strips us bare

The only way, the only way
To get out of this bind
Is recognise a hand benign
Which guides us humankind,

Put the golden calf away,
The selfie stick as well,
Open up our hearts and minds
To others’ rightful swell.

Bury disagreement with the
Spade of consolation,
Accept a rival point of view
As next to our own station.

Refrain from demonising those
We otherwise would friend,
Opinions are ephemeral as
Broken fences mend.

Some say it started years ago
When revolutions rolled,
It’s time to reckon with them
And return our shepherd’s fold.

Hate Crime

Wow! My first post for over a year and it's a poem which may just ruffle a few feathers. Why? Because it's one in which women, not men, are the villains. Seriously, I just got so tired and fed up with hearing guests on the news maligning men and suggesting that boys should undergo some sort of civility training to help them deal better with the opposite sex.

This is a problem we all face, and not just from either side of the gender divide either. Civility, and being civil is now no longer in vogue. Honestly, watch people discussing, debating or disagreeing with each other and you'll see the same tell tale signs, they're not listening to the other side, there's no Socratic debate in which opposing opinions are placed together and a third conciliatory point often results, no, now we just cancel those with whom we can't agree.

Anyway, here's my experience of how some women have treated me in the past. Now don't get me wrong, and I do admit this in the university bit, I have been culpable of being every bit as obtuse and sordid as these fair ladies, but these are fair ladies often who should know better and who should be getting on with men rather than undermining them. Is their stance, their behaviour, Hate Crime, and is our solution merely to continue collapsing the genders?

‘Are you sure you’re not a virgin?’
Laughed the she-wolf in my face,
Her friends in merriment with her,
This horrid, horrid place.

Just last week I gave my seat
When someone would the favour,
‘F***ing mug!’ she cackled,
Joined by others of her flavour.

‘Call me,’ leered another,
‘When you’re earning eighty grand’,
Until then was I nothing
To her but a serving hand.

Three women so maternal
That their nurture birthed a beast,
Treat all men like garbage
And upon them grossly feast.

‘I like a boy who makes lists’
Said the lawyer sidling near,
‘Would you plead for me in court?’
She whispered in my ear.

But I’m on work experience
(Which clearly did she know),
I’m only fifteen years old
And simply cannot front such show.

You’re undermining me,
You’re making me uneasy,
Even now you’re too close
And I’m starting to feel queasy.

See, there upon the menu,
Right there that’s choice two fish,
A haddock and a plaice
With chips each for a different dish.

It’s three years after, in a pub
I’m plying barman trade,
But I’ve made mistake 
And now I’m facing her tirade.

She throws it on the floor,
Then orders me to sweep
The remnants of the gutted fish
She can no longer keep.

She’s horrible and vicious,
Landlady with a tongue
So swollen in her manured head
That sees me just as dung.

But quotes are what you want,
And that is what I’ll give,
Provide you with the very words
Which ladies would they sieve.

I’m arguing, you see,
With housemate second year,
Accommodation student digs,
It’s direful and drear.

I can’t remember what I’ve said,
I’ve probably been a prick,
Don’t think for just one second
I’m exempt from this same trick.

Anyway, she bridles,
Sets her sights upon my sex,
Calls me ‘Frigid virgin!’
Knowing well it will me vex.

That’s two of you who’ve used that word
As though it should be cast
Into abyssal depths
Chained up with fallen angels past,

Instead of being cherished, honoured,
Maybe kept a while,
Thrown like infant rubbish
To a playground paedophile.

‘It makes it complicated,’
Said the wronged and sighing girl,
‘When he’s so good in bed… 
…confuses me with giddy whirl!’

I made that last line up,
To fit the tonal rhyme
I’ve just two more examples
Of this feature’s fateful time,

‘He l***ed her out,’ she told me
Gleeful deep in vocal chord,
‘But was too hard in thrust,
Be careful when you climb on board.’

‘I like to f**k a man!’
My girlfriend’s mother told us both,
Before she hit her daughter,
For some reason she was wroth.

All this and more I’ve heard
Come from the lips of dainty dames,
The sort of female misandry
That scratches, scars and blames

The whole the male species
Who in punishment must then
Be educated on the proper way
To be more courteous men.

Of course there are bad apples,
It’s been that way forever,
People who wish hate and hurt
In all that they endeavour,

But I’d wager far more common
Here on planet Earth
Are people simply searching
For a soulmate their own worth.

Men are not the enemy,
Nor women, neither prove
Less toxic than the masculine
When they decide to move.

Non-binary! Non-binary!
Regale us with your finery,
Remove the genders from existence,
Red and white wine vinery!

All lesbian, gay, bisexual folk,
Transgender, questioning, queer,
Teach harmony to men and women
When each other near.

It’s century twenty first,
We own the planet Earth,
We can be best friends
Or enemies until our dearth.

See, change is quite upon us,
I feel it in my bones,
Old ways of talking to each other
Aged as the stones

One kicks with booted shoe
Along with slander into touch,
Defamation, hate crime,
All of these we’ve had too much.

My hope is that in coming years
We’ll clear it all away,
Living in community
Where each has equal sway,

But as above the choice is ours,
Hold mutual respect,
Or dominate, control, and bully
As in old suspect.

It starts with speech and ends with union,
Two consenting people,
Beautiful the sharing act
Profound love may then steeple.

We owe it to each other
To be more caring, kind,
And if we do the future’s bright
For all of us in mind.