Out of the Covid
the Frying Pan
This book of poetry came out of lockdown. Through a year of isolation I have recorded my feelings, dreams and frustrations. They come out in these concentrations of words that I daringly call poems.
I do not think that they have a theme or act as a diary.
They document the thoughts, ideas and hopes that flood through my brain.
This has been a nightmare time of Brexit, Covid-19, wars, coups, Trump’s demise, Bolsonaro’s madness, global warming, the destruction of nature, a massive rise in inequality and the clown that is Boris Johnson pretending to be PM.
The human race is totally insane. We continue to promote nasty insane leaders. We continue our nasty nationalism. We continue our nasty racism, sexism and violent ways.
It seems that the sane among us are in a minority.
In these diatribes I vent my spleen! (Not that it does any good!)
This 22nd book of poetry – another empty gesture! A futile flinging of words against the might of a global propaganda machine.
Why not join me for a spell of pointless futility?
A bit of meaningless meaning? Or a voicing of protest?
PS – there’s quite a smattering of love and spirituality to brighten up the proceedings!