I was gonna say! I was gonna say!
Seems you’ve forgotten what’s important here.
Left out what I thought your priority.
Surprisingly, not made that all that clear.

Glad you’ve now explained where it all fits in.
Did so with a fair amount of laughter.
Having fun. Little bit of leg-pulling.
Brought the excluded aspect in, after.

It made the girl she was with, most amused.
Almost animated, her reaction.
Her statement, admission that been confused.
Then, at the last, to her satisfaction.

About to make the point without delay.
Instead repeated, “I was gonna say”.


“I have been bloody bored; so bloody bored.
And what do you do when you’re bored? You eat.
It’s meant I’ve put on weight. My weight has soared.”
Her voice from behind my cinema seat.

The aftermath of an operation.
Housebound, most likely, for long periods.
Found it a hugely dull situation.
The resultant mental state serious.

And then a case of snacking and nibbling.
Filling the mouth with meals, biscuits and cakes.
In the funny sense, it’s not rib-tickling.
But for comforting, it takes what it takes.

And eating helped pass the time, but she knew
it was ‘heavy’ what she had to go through.


“Your doctor is busy and can’t see you,
but I can connect you to ‘smart doctor.’
Has your medical records can go through.
A computer, but you’ll be looked after.

You can explain your current state of health.
It will diagnose you accurately.
Notifies, later, the doctor himself.
And prescribes for you what cure there can be.
“From your symptoms, it sounds like you are ill.
And your condition I’m analysing
My diagnosis, I now can reveal.
I think it’s the case that you are dying.”
Whether this ‘smart doctor’ correct or not,
not what you want to hear from a robot.


I like to read a murder mystery.
I like to know the killer isn’t me.
Makes me guess who it could possibly be,
there, in the plot, living dangerously.

I like to watch a sexy video.
It might include somebody that I know.
Know those on the screen will put on a show.
But I expect that they will come and go.

I like to hear about the politics.
How the problems, those in power, will fix.
Or, where they cannot or will not, their tricks
with words as diversionary tactics.

They are simply entertainments, these three.
I like them, but not necessarily …..


Mobile Phone man, “Yes, tomorrow’s cancelled”.
A rather enormous exposition
in a few words. It, the end of the world?
Or, unavoidable disposition

due to death or significant ill-health?
All bets off, then, in the changed circumstance.
Commitment for tomorrow, forced to shelve.
What expected, then, an irrelevance,

as plan overtaken by already
happened event of some, affecting, kind.
So with his phone, the speaker was ready
to say about tomorrow “never mind”,

as, from what he said, it is now cancelled.
In its place, will be a different world.


I try to stay still. Hardly move at all.
Not cause my body to undergo stress.
There are so many ways vulnerable;
and too active not in my interest.

As too vigorous and I might collapse.
Too adventurous, and meet disaster.
Be victim of crime, robbed or worse, perhaps.
Be knocked over, or fall. Limbs in plaster.

Something, or someone, ‘doing my head in’
likely, if have to engage with nonsense.
Matter, I should remember, forgetting.
Lose, in a battle with those I’m against.

So, heeding Homer Simpson’s homily,
‘lesson of try and fail, … don’t try’. That’s me.


A great voice, the Senegalese singer,
Youssou N’dour. Impressive and outstanding.
With mood and pitch, on song he delivers.
Much intensity of sound, he can bring.

I particularly enjoy ‘This Dream’.
Collaboration with Peter Gabriel.
One sings high, the other low, as a team.
Youssou does deep too, before voice sets sail.

Asked my smart T.V. for You Tube version,
having given a spoken instruction.
But to African’s name, an aversion.
Kept making completely wrong assumption.

Enter, London mainline railway station.
‘Euston Door’, T.V. brain’s aberration.


Singing, ‘so long, it’s been good to know ya’.
Again, ‘so long, it’s been good to know ya’.
We’ll sing this, when climate change takes over.
For millions like us, it will destroy ya.

It’s gonna burn ya. It’s gonna starve ya.
It’s gonna murder. It’s gonna drown ya.
It’s gonna cause ya a carcinoma.
It’s gonna bring a hellish palaver.

Riots, then brutal force to control ya.
They’ll quickly find the reasons to blame ya.
Make ya refugee, you’ll have to go far.
Then, where land, be told ‘not the same, you are’.

Climate change spells horror, can assure ya.
Expect, ‘so long it’s been good to know ya’.


My dream was fearful. I had to wake up.
Sat for 5 minutes to halt its progress.
On a mountain-side, the dream I take up.
Walking back from a place of interest,

with a friend. A group of people pass by
going the way that we came from. And then
we see some animals grazing nearby.
Turns out they’re lions, but not bright golden.

My friend goes forward, and trapped, faces one.
Another comes from the brow, toward me.
Would not succeed now if I was to run.
To survive seems unimaginary.

So I wake. Stop the inevitable.
Change the dream’s course, because too terrible.


I return to sleep to complete my dream.
The lion approaching menacingly.
As it’s about to leap, an action scene.
Throw my coat on its head, quick as can be,

and leap to a side, where pick-up a rock
and bludgeon the creature’s head, with my strength.
Then I run for dear life; no time to stop.
Passed the group, whose presence there makes no sense,

to a building where the door remains closed.
I climb to the roof, where I use my phone
for helicopter and winch, the dream goes,
to take me above where the lions roam.

But the pilot sees none. There’s just a coat
over a man who’s been bludgeoned, he notes.

Some Political Poems
Art, Culture, Nature, Extra, Poems