Poetry – Who is it?

Who is it?


Who doesn’t pay his taxes?

Who’s telling porky pies?

Who’s claiming hoaxes?

As the population dies?

Who is arrogantly pouting?

Who ignores abuse?

Who shouts fake news

Every time he’s accused?

Who is using dirty tricks

To inflame and divide?

Who uses derogatory language

That many can’t abide?

Who operates in chaos

While feeding his base

Who brought his country shame

And is a complete disgrace?


I think I know the answer

It hits you with a thump!


Opher – 28.9.2020

Poetry – Taxes

I was inspired to write this by the ‘revelation’ that Trump pays no taxes. It’s something we’ve always known. It is why he doesn’t release his tax returns. He’s a scammer, a fraud and a cheat.

If billionaires like Trump get away with paying little the burden falls on everyone else. He can afford it; many can’t. Why should we all have to pay taxes while the rich use loopholes to avoid it?

They are the same robber barons who stole the land and made themselves rich at our expense!



They pay no taxes – so we pay more

But they use our roads

They drink the water

Breathe the air.


They earn millions – but look for loopholes,

Pay their accountants,

Invest their loot.

Is this fair?


They pay no taxes on the money they earn

From exploiting us

With inflated prices



They pay no taxes but we must pay.

They squirrel it away


Without a care.


The same robber barons from long ago

Who stole the land,

Made us slaves

And took our share.


Opher – 28.9.2020

Poetry – John Phillips – Silence

Another poem from Shorts and Shots



Stone on stone on stone, the city canyons,

Towering ramparts, stark against the sky,

Once living, vibrant, fat with city sound.

No sound to break the silence of shadows.


Believe! We shall prevail! The Leaders cry.

The flag, the drums, the sound of marching feet

And crowds, then cheering, now forever still.

Nothing disturbs the silence of the ghosts.


Silent, the end, no sirens mournful wail

To mark the passing. But  blinding, choking;

Beckoning forth, rats to graze the streets,

Leaving behind the silence of the bones.


No birdsong brightens empty, city streets;

No sense of summer sun or winter chill.

No eyes, no ears, no thoughts, no memories.

Only the endless silence of the stone.

Poetry – Catalyst for Division

Catalyst for Division


There’s a catalyst for division

And he’s coming after us.

He’s spreading hate and racism

To throw us off the bus.

He’s gathering his army

They’re taking to the street.

Toting their assault rifles

Jackbooting their feet.


He’s a catalyst for hatred

Enjoying when people cower,

Wallowing in his wealth,

Loving all the power.

He’s spreading all his fake news –

A propaganda machine.

Spreading lies and put-downs,

Talking sly and mean.


He’s a catalyst for confusion,

Making people fear.

Spreading doubt like manure

So that nothing is quite clear.

He’s empowering the racists

And stirring the pot.

He wants to get elected

Giving it all he’s got.


He’s a catalyst for violence,

Orchestrating his thugs.

Treating the people

Like a bunch of mugs.

He’s building walls in minds

As well as on the ground.

Where-ever he goes

The lies they do abound.


We know what he’s about!

Time to boot him out!


Opher – 26.9.2020

Poetry – Going to War – by John Phillips

I do like John’s poems (have a look at his book ‘Shorts and Shots’.

Going to war


We’re going to war, we’re going to war,

We’re going to war again.

Parliament has been recalled

And Cameron will explain.

We’re going to war, we’re going to war,

We’re going to fight the foe.

America’s President says we must,

So it’s off to war we go.


We’re going to war, we’re going to war,

We see the enemy’s game.

But nobody says who armed him,

Or even from where he came.

We’re going to war, were going to war,

The enemy’s plans to foil.

We’ll degrade his capabilities

And inflate the price of oil.


We’re going to war, we’re going to war,

Isil will be destroyed

If it takes too long we’ll change the law

And conscript the unemployed.

If it’s All in the National interest,

Will somebody please explain;

Why we knock them down just to build them up

And do it all again?



Poetry – John Phillips – Syrian Rondeau

Syrian Rondeau


With veiled hypocrisy, our cries

For Syria’s agony disguise

A national interest, which demands

Licence to plunder and to stand

In judgement, as we seek the prize.


Our history falsely justifies

Superior worth, which testifies

That all should bow, as we command

With veiled hypocrisy.


By politics we legalise

Our case to feed the screaming skies,

The killing-fields and smoking sands.

Whilst tearfully wringing bloodstained hands

We pontify and moralize

With veiled hypocrisy


Check out his poetry book – Shorts and Shots



Poetry – The Politician

The Politician


I’m a very stupid man

I’m a politician.


All I crave is power and wealth,

Which is exactly why I ‘m here.

If I play my cards right

They’ll make me a peer.

I do not have a mind

I vote the way I’m told.

My party’s always right

No point in being bold.


I’m a very stupid man

I’m a politician.


The whip is my friend

He tells me what to think.

Saves me the trouble

I don’t even have to blink.

Questions of morality

Don’t enter my head.

I leave that up to others

And sleep easy in my bed.


I’m a very stupid man

I’m a politician.


Opher – 24.9.2020