poetry – Reagan – John Phillips

Reagan

 

Product of ad-men, you live by their rules;

Puppet of criminals, Fascists and fools.

Guided by shadows, lunatic dreams;

Deaf to the sound of innocents screams.

Blinded to poverty, death and disease,

Bows down to worship the Capitalist creed.

Actor and President, Christian, you tell;

Look in the mirror for visions of Hell.

Poetry – Dreams and Memories

Dreams and Memories

 

The sun’s warmth and cool breeze are vehicles

As one strolls down the lane,

A wodge of grass in cheek,

Chewing nature’s chewing gum,

Hearing birdsong,

Smelling grass and herbs,

Hearing rustling leaves,

But transported inside.

Inside where the dreams of youth

Have settled into a belly of contentment

Becoming the memories of age.

 

Chewing and striding,

Chewing and musing,

Chewing and remembering.

Chewing the aspirations.

Chewing the memories.

 

Some of those dreams became real

And some withered away.

Some grew and took on unseen dimensions,

Others came to abrupt ends and disappointment.

But without dreams to propel us forward,

Without opportunities seized,

Without chances risked,

We would not have the memories to enrich us,

Or that ball of contentment nestling inside.

 

Strolling down the lane,

On a perfect day,

Smiling.

 

Opher – 31.5.2020

Poetry – Emily’s gone – John Phillips

Another poem from Shorts and Shots (available on Amazon)

Emily’s gone

 

Emily Lush has died in vain;

No bell to toll a sad refrain

To mark her passing. Who will see

Injustice and iniquity?

But simply say She was insane.

 

Her fellow citizens remain

Indifferent to her life and pain

Without response or empathy

Now Emily Lush has died.

 

The Government will not pertain

To comment, reason or explain.

They shirk responsibility

For victims of Austerity,

Yet block attempts to ascertain

Why Emily Lush has died.

Poetry – Coalition 2010 – John Phillips

Another John Phillips poem from Shorts and Shots:

Coalition 2010

 

A clanging gong.

Bong!

Caring Conservatism.

Bong!

The Big Society.

Bong!

Hard-working families.

Bong!

All in it together.

Bong!

 

 

Georgie

 

Grubby little piglet

Snuffling in his trough.

Wants to eat up everything

And still can’t get enough.

 

 

 

Clegged

 

Signed a pledge

With empty talking.

Sold his soul

He’s Dead Man Walking.

Poetry – A Politicians lament. – John Phillips

Another poem from Shorts and shots – available from Amazon:

A Politicians lament.

 

The people have spoken, the bastards!

The public has voted me out.

They say that I cannot be trusted;

That should n’t be what it’s about.

They say that I fiddled expenses;

They claim my accounting is flawed.

So I made a few bob, I was good at my job

And it’s fair I received my reward.

 

It’s rumoured I’m owned by Big Business

And am paid in substantial amounts.

That cash is my paramount interest,

And the state of my offshore accounts.

When alleged that my deeds were illegal,

I was so overwhelmed with surprise;

I can honestly say, it was never that way

And it’s all been a tissue of lies.

 

It’s been said I’m misogynistic,

A rake and a letch and a grope.

What ‘s a man s’posed to do, if the girls go for you?

I was tempted, it was n’t my fault.

And that night at the fancy-dress party,

With my swastika, jackboots and gun.

What a hell of a mess when it leaked to the press;

It was only a matter of fun.

 

But the people have spoken, the bastards;

And there’s nothing to do or to say.

So I’ll cash in my bonds and my holdings

And siphon the money away.

After all that I’ve done for the country,

I’ve been branded, a knave and a fraud.

So I’ll clear-out my desk, have a well-deserved rest

And then take up my seat in The Lords.

 

Poetry – Star – John Phillips

Star

A rising star, she rose that morning;

Thinking, dreaming, loving, planning,

Never knowing.

 

And did he rise,

Victim of twisted, serpent, mind?

Or guilty of some strange intent?

 

Are we just travellers,

Of dark, uncertain roads

Which lead to no-where?

 

Or part of an eternal plan

Which promises tomorrow?

Poetry – The Awakening – John Phillips

A second dose of John Philips for today!

Make his day – buy his book – its good and cheap!

The Awakening

 

Speak not to me of empires,

Whose empty drums beat out a lullaby

To fill the sleep with dreams of glory.

 

Speak not, with twisted tongue,

A web of propaganda, spun

To idolise and justify unwholesome wealth and privilege.

 

Speak not to me of thrones;

Of bogus majesties, who’s festivals of inequality

Seek only to patronise and so, deny the right of all to be the same.

 

Awake! Awake! Reality awaits.

We are not second class!

Awake!

Poetry – Between the tides – John Phillips

Another poem from John Phillips. His poetry book ‘Shorts and Shots’ is out on Amazon.

 

Between the tides

 

Between the tides the children play

In sweet oblivion. Today

Their immortality commands

Adventure which inspires demands

To make their mark upon the day.

 

They walk the narrow tightrope way

Their dreams of innocence portray

Clear visions of a promised land

Between the tides.

 

To live for now without dismay

To taste life s candy-shop display

Of castles built on shifting sands

Whilst lacking sight to understand

The sharks that circle round the bay

Between the tides.

Poetry – Sham Democracy

Sham Democracy

 

It shouldn’t need saying

Because it’s plain to see

We’re living in a sham

Of democracy.

The press is run

By the Tory Grandees

And they’ve loaded

The board of the BBC.

 

Forget your thoughts

Of meritocracy.

The news is just

Tory hypocrisy.

The only thing we receive

Is Tory policy.

It’s created a land of

Autocracy.

 

Opher – 28.5.2020

 

 

Still fuming over the blatant control of the media by the Tories. It’s a propaganda machine that works so well for them. Any opposition is met with a flood of lies.

It’s becoming a one-party state.

Poetry – Wished I wasn’t there – John Phillips

Wished I wasn’t there

 

As we hung around the garden

There was sadness in the air

And my heart was torn with memories

And I wished I wasn’t there

 

All the crying and the grieving

And the singing and the prayer;

How it was n’t what he’d wanted

And I wished I wasn’t there

 

With the people asking questions

Why to him? And was it fair?

But I didn’t know the answers

And I wished I wasn’t there.