Killing the Taliban – a poem

Killing the Taliban

 

I’m busy killing the Taliban

With my dancing and my song.

Causing their destruction

I don’t think it’ll take too long.

 

They’ve come out of the Dark Ages

With their joyless cult of death.

We’re fighting their misogyny

With all our hearts and breath.

 

There’s a misery surrounding them

With their brainwashed ideology.

They live for death; we live for life

And the love of being free.

 

So with our instruments of love

We’ll play our symphony

And waken the joys of life

From their stone-cold misery.

 

They made the mistake of thinking

Their god hates music and song;

That women are all second class;

How could they have got it all so wrong?

 

So with the magic of our strings

And the beauty of our voice

We’ll sing a song of love

That’ll make their hearts rejoice.

 

So I’m killing the Taliban today

I’m dancing as I sing.

They’ll throw their joyless book away

And let freedom ring!

 

Opher – 15.5.2019

 

 

What kind of miserable death cult is it that kills people for singing and dancing?

What kind of doctrine is it that squanders the wonder of their own lives and seeks to put an end to pleasure?

What kind of cult is this that seeks to live in the past? That thinks stoning is an apt punishment and women are inferior?

I think the human spirit is vital and alive. It knows that song and dance are not crimes.

You defeat such a brainwashed cult by showing them a better way.

Instead of following some hollow words from the Dark Ages we can come together to celebrate, women and men, children and the old, – there’s the treasure.

You kill a wicked, warped ideology with something better.

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Time if you please – a poem

Time if you please

Meg had been the landlord
Of the Rancid Stoat and Quail
But now at ninety five
She wasn’t pulling ale.

T’was the fire that she was craving
That kept her old bones well.
These days she just huddled close
And listened to the tales.

She’d had a happy childhood
With her sisters, mum and dad.
Wild in the countryside –
Life hadn’t been so bad.

And when she’d been a-courtin’
She’d had her share of bliss
Dancing with the lads
And sharing many a kiss.

But she’d settled down
With her handsome husband Syd
And working well together
Had created many a kid.

Those had been the happiest days
With her family all around.
A house so full of gaiety
Where laughter was the sound.

No matter how they’d grown
No matter how big they were
Even with families of their own,
They were still just kids to her.

She wondered where the time had gone
The years had flown so fast.
But they were full and happy days
When dwelling on the past.

But now her body lurched.
She felt her heart jerk.
Her whole world was spinning
Before a gathering murk.

With a sigh she slid
From her chair down to her knees
As a voice in her head called:
‘Time – Time if you please!’

15.5.2019

This was a title with my writing group. I started to write something funny (as can be seen from the rancid stoat) but I was kind of caught up in a little sentimental story and this is how it came out.
Time was what they used to call in the pubs and ring their bell to signal last orders.
One day it will be time for us all.

No One Knows – a poem

No One Knows

 

Beware the ones with answers,

Ignore the ones who’re sure.

For no one knows

What it all is really for.

 

They ponder the mysteries

Breeding answers more improbable

As they seek to pierce

The armour of the impossible.

 

But all we know

Is no one knows.

Their answers

Are all no-shows.

 

No one has the key.

There are no messiahs;

No texts that reveal;

Just power-mad desires.

 

So beware the ones with answers.

They know what they do.

They are spinning you a tale

Some would like to believe it too!

 

Accept that no one knows

And love the mystery.

It’s full of awe and wonder

A paradise for free!

 

Opher – 13.5.2019

 

 

There are those that say that not having the answers is proof that their answers are correct. Only they have the solution to the mysteries around us. Yet their answers are more fantastical than the mysteries themselves.

So beware the ones with answers for they know not what they think.

Live among the mystery and love every second. I believe it’s all we have.

I know not where it came from or how it arose – but I sure like thinking about it.

Waking Up – a poem

Waking Up

I woke today to a blue sky
And bright sunshine.
Pink and white blossom
Gaily gleamed on the trees.
Bright green buds,
Responding to the warmth,
Opened,
Spilling forth their nascent green
To dress the bush and tree
In fresh verdant uniform.
All so bright and cheerful,
So new and fresh.
Today it felt as if the world had woken up.

Opher – 12.5.2019

I love the reawakening of nature. The birds are singing, nesting and the world feels fresh.
It is as if we have a new start.
I wish we could wipe the slate clean and really begin again. What a great world we could make.

I Can’t Help It! – a poem

 

I Can’t Help It!

 

I can’t help it!

I have a section missing!

It’s not my fault!

Spelt out in DNA code

Missing on my Y –

The ability to iron or fold,

To notice dirt,

To dance,

To knit or sew!

All missing!

It’s not my fault!

I’m disabled!

There’s a whole section missing.

I can’t help it!

 

Opher – 12.5.2019

 

 

Where did it all go wrong? Why am I so inept at so many things? I guess it’s just genetic!

I was born that way. My Y chromosome is a stunted little thing with so much missing! Who would have thought that the genes for ironing, folding and noticing dirt would all be on the section that is missing?

So sad. I feel so helpless! But it’s not my fault is it?

PS – it is intended to be humorous.

Without Blades – A short film based on my poem Rebellion Extinction.

I was very humbled to find that a group of students had used one of my poems – Extinction Rebellion – to create a powerful short film.

Thank you Alex Galkowski, Nicola Stockdale, Nathan Wong and Iago de Parla – with thanks to Meegan Worcester, Freya Dohrn Ellefsen and Ethan Bishop.

Let us all hope that it helps a little to put the environment top of the agenda. We’re fighting for our planet.

Thank you guys – you’ve done me proud!

Extinction Rebellion

 

The world is in a mess.

That’s not hard to see.

The plunder and the rape

Is killing bird and tree.

 

But there’s a rebellion against this extinction

Carried out with distinction.

Superglued to trains and building barricades

They’re fighting without blades.

 

They are fighting for the future

They are making a huge din.

They’re trying to wake us up

To what is happening.

 

For profit and gain

We are busy plundering.

Without a care for pain

Or a moment spent wondering.

 

But there’s a rebellion against this extinction

Carried out with distinction.

Superglued to trains and building barricades

They’re fighting without blades.

 

So long live the rebellion

I hope it wakes us up.

Greed is so destructive

We’ve got to give it up.

 

But there’s a wealthy bunch

Who just see the cash.

Unless they start to give a damn

We’re heading for a crash.

 

But there’s a rebellion against this extinction

Carried out with distinction.

Superglued to trains and building barricades

They’re fighting without blades.

 

Opher – 24.4.2019

 

 

What we have done to the world over these last few hundred years is criminal. Without regard to the destruction or the agony of the creatures caught up in it we have devastated the environment.

Things have got to change.

Animal population numbers are decimated. Many face extinction. The wilderness is being destroyed.

Nowhere is safe.

Thank heavens some people are prepared to fight for a better future.

Once – a poem

Once

 

Only once!

Amazing!

In eternity,

Out of nothing,

Into something!

From mineral

To animal!

From mindless

To conscious!

Aware

Of how

Once

There was nothing!

Amazing!

 

Opher 12.5.2019

 

 

There are the usual amazing things that boggle my mind – Like how a whole universe of zillions of stars came out of nothing – or how a bunch of minerals on a tiny planet in a minor galaxy all came together to form something that we describe as being alive – or how that life evolved to create feelings, consciousness and was even able to contemplate the wonders around it.

Amazing!

But hey – I don’t feel the need to create something even more fantastical to explain it. I’m content to be boggled.

Adios WriterBeat!!

The American site for writers of all persuasions known as WriterBeat has finally succumbed.

Thanks Autumn Cote for the invite and all the years of fun.

Thank you to all the friends I made and all the people I met.  I am sorry to see it go!

Hello to the refugees from WriterBeat that have popped up on my Blog. You are most welcome.

Here’s hoping that Stone and Owl will get something together pretty soon.

Long live WriterBeat!!

Death from a thousand cuts – a poem

Death from a thousand cuts

 

Death from a thousand cuts

As drug rehab is slashed.

Death from a thousand cuts

As police numbers crash.

Death from a thousand cuts

As the GPs are bashed.

 

The NHS can’t sew them up

As they are starved of cash.

The schools can’t educate

With a system that is smashed.

The Tories don’t give a damn

As they orchestrate this crash.

 

Death from a thousand cuts

And privatise away.

Death from a thousand cuts

They’ll vote for us anyway.

Death from a thousand cuts

That’s justice under May!

 

Opher – 9.5.2019

 

 

Under the fog of Brexit the Tories have been gleefully robbing the poor, cutting services and giving our cash to their rich buddies. Tax cuts and privatisation, bonuses and huge salaries for the elite. Meanwhile the streets aren’t safe, the hospitals can’t cope, the youth services have disappeared, the gangs rule the streets –

While the Tories carry their loot to the bank!

 

What was it Osborne said??? We’re all in it together??

How much is he earning again??

Irony – a poem

Irony

 

It is the people who make the most fuss about freedom

Who are the ones quickest to deny the freedom of others.

Is their idea of freedom little more than licence for themselves

And oppression for their brothers?

 

Are the people who delight in derogatory language

Not the ones who are

Intolerant of criticism,

Like bullies in the midnight choir?

 

Opher – 9.5.2019

 

 

I hear a lot of talk from many Americans who cherish their freedom, who feel that PC is an infringement of their rights.

I feel that what they really crave is not freedom but the license to abuse and bully.

Any freedom that robs other people of their power, rights or freedom, that causes oppression or fear, is nothing more than tyranny and bullying.

Communities are about compromises, empathy and understanding. Nobody is entitled to absolute freedom.

This John Wayne fantasy is incredibly harmful.

Freedom is fairness, consideration and finding the middle ground.

Everyone should have their rights preserved – not just a loud, brash few.

License is freedom to abuse and oppress.