Lockdown Poems

A scatological poem

A prism will split white light into seven hues

Red, orange, yellow, green, violet and the two blues

My intestines will also split the foods I eat

Red if I indulge in cherries or pickled beet

Blue when I go overboard with blueberries

And yellow when I eat a lot of Indian curries

Boiled Spinach, kale soup or French haricot bean

Will result in my body waste turning green

But so far nothing makes me produce shit

Coloured orange, indigo or violet

The Pandora Papers

Tony Blair is worth twenty-million writes wikipedia_

Something that is echoed by the media

Had he paid the levy and not use the tax loophole

When he bought his six million pound mansion

He would have just a little bit less gold

But he’d still be worth more than nineteen million

A Reminiscence in Verse

In my reckless youth my chatting-up technique

Was pathetic, with results fruitless and bleak

Once in a park I saw a girl with a bruised black eye

And thought I had the perfect chatting-up pitch

Who was the brute who did this to you, said I

Adding, what an effing son of a bitch

My black eye nothing, she said, you should have seen his

And I daresay you will if you don’t leave me in peace