The Thing from Planet Gove

Its handshake is that of a slightly disreputable funeral director.

Its eyes those of an opinionated alligator

that sometimes reviews opera forthe London Times.

Its mind is a free trade slaughterhouse, busy 

making mincemeat, as cleanly as possible,

of other people’s children, bony old parents 

and the occasional small business person 

who was just wrong place, wrong century.

But its regular appearances on TV impress

the sort of people who have sexual relations

with their cars. Or their neighbours

cars. The female it dreams of is 

Rupert Murdoch’s more withered sister 

who lets it stand on its tippy-toes in a tutu 

inherited from a former grandmother 

who was briefly a dowager Duchess 

until the unfortunate headlines 

made her true position undeniable.

And it is written in Scripture 

that at a time such as this

a thing such as this

would ascend to Earth and give us –

leaving god aside for the minute –

proof of Satan’s existence.

© Kevin Higgins

Theresa May is told she must go as ministers plot to install Michael Gove in No 10 to save Brexit

Kevin Higgins 

Kevin is co-organiser of Over The Edge literary events in Galway, Ireland. He teaches poetry workshops at Galway Arts Centre, Creative Writing at Galway Technical Institute, and is Creative Writing Director for the National University of Ireland - Galway Summer School. He is poetry critic of The Galway Advertiser. He has published five collections of poetry. His next poetry collection, Sex and Death at Merlin Park Hospital, will be published by Salmon Poetry in June 2019.

Dream Team

(with apologies to Will Shakespeare)

Double, double toil and trouble,

Gove and Johnson in a huddle!

Israel or Tehran – wha’ever --

Mike and Boris, back together,

Boil up their hard-Brexit magic!

Should be comic, but it’s tragic

How they hover here and there

Through the fog and filthy air.

Each no more the other’s rival

all they want’s their own survival.

Let that woman Nazanin --

Only half a Brit, it seems --

Rot in jail, and as for Priti,

Well, of course, it is a pity,

But her fall’s a handy veil

To mask our Bojo’s latest fail.

Daft woman! How was he to know

That journalism in Iran’s no-go?

We do love him -- the rascal – but

That mouth should sometimes be taped shut!

Lies, damned lies and obfuscation

They think will still deceive the nation,

And so the dream team reconvenes

To stir the pot, e’en if it means

Scuppering their lovechild, Brexit –

Gods! What will they ruin nexit?

© Mandy Macdonald

Brexit’s real string-pullers are operating behind the scenes

Mandy Macdonald lives in Aberdeen, trying to make sense of the 21st century. Music, poetry and gardening keep her sane. Her poems appear here and there in print and online.

Sunday 'Shorts'

A Stile of Leaks


There was a crooked man who had a crooked smile

who found a crooked partner filled with crooked wiles

they made a crooked pact to build their crooked scheme

and they both fibbed together: Brexit’s no crooked gleam.

© Lavinia Kumar

UK government tensions rise after leak of Johnson-Gove letter to May

Lavinia Kumar has a new poetry book, The Celtic Fisherman’s Wife: A Druid Life, it can be found on Amazon (US & UK).



Apocalypse Now

Alas, the end of the world is nigh.
Italian expectations were high
of qualification for the world cup
but it seems they were sold a pup.
It is apocalypse, said the headlines:
the azzurri will be on the sidelines
as the finals get under way in June.
The fans will sing a mournful tune
instead of a joyous, uplifting song;
the national anthem seems wrong.
Football fans blamed the coach
and he was not beyond reproach.
Everyone thinks that the solution
can only be achieved by revolution.

© Luigi Pagano

World Cup shock: Sweden beats Italy 1-0 on aggregate to dump four-time champs out of Russia 2018

Luigi Pagano has published three collections of poems: ‘Idle Thoughts’, ’Reflections’ and ‘Poetry On Tap’. His work has been featured in ABCTales’ magazines,UKAuthors’ anthologies, Poetry24 and several other publications.

No Peace

It's true that I mismanage things;

I have no one to blame but myself:

those columns of figures never did add up

because their digits, refusing to stand still,

choose to reel about and fight like dogs,

disturbing the neighbours and my peace;

they are doused in cheap cider,

incited to violence by the games

on their super-sized TVs;

ill-informed, without ambition,

lacking in proper respect.

It's true that I mismanage things.

Sometimes, I struggle to cope;

though, often, I swear, I outstare the dark

and count, on my fingers and my toes,

this week's rent, the leccy,

and the months since my last 'big shop'.

I have numbered all my blessings, too,

and counted whole flocks of scrawny sheep.

(That sleep is not a country the poor know well

the poor have always known

but it's proven now by new research

which makes uswant to weep.)

It's true that I mismanage things,

not least my dreams and my hopes.

I kept them for a time but then

I sold them for a song.

September came, and uniforms;

and Christmas costs a lot;

so now let those who would tell us how

be hunger's bedtime hosts;

let them see how the odds are stacked

and let them find their peace.

© Abigail Wyatt

Food Bank Britain: 'I didn't ask to be ill.'

It's not their fault.

Too little sleep lowers IQ
Rich people sleep better than poor people.

Education deformed

Tougher GCSEs for lesser employment opportunities plus
Tougher GCEs so fewer of us get to complete degrees.
This is not root and branch reform - it is disease,
That shows us pure scorn and should form dis-ease.
Tories making things better? Oh stop... PLEASE!
The web the media weaves may show all idle as slobs,
But iKnow it's not only cos we lost Steve
That there's a shortage of jobs.
There are too many people claiming sick pay they say,
But true we know how they stay cos we nah forget
And though their PR is slick we ain't all thick... yet!
They're screwing all but the top social categories,
As dem feed our faces still, as ever,
Bed-time con-stories filled with market based equality.
In these times of economic bad weather which we witness,
Surely only those who should be in mental nurseries still believe
That we are all in this... together!

© Mark Thompson

Return of O-levels: Michael Gove to get rid of GCSEs in exams shakeup

Mark Thompson is a multiple award winning, self published, performance poet and educator of Anglo-Jamaican heritage. He has a website, tweets as @CCP_MrT and has a blog on writeoutloud.net.

‘A Horrific Mistake’

I remember the days
of the old CSE
and classrooms with
not enough chairs.
Each class had a Jason,
a Kerry, a Kyle:
you could see
their crushed hopes
and inhale their despair.

I remember the hours
with Lennie and George,
and Curly and Candy and Slim.
The road to Salinas
was never so long,
nor the outcomes
so sure or so grim.

In static rows
with heads like sieves,
they would sit at our behest
while we sloshed
in the gravy, lumps and all;
and, frankly,
just hoped for the best.

 It’s true now and then
they’d grow restless;
when they’d lift up
their voices as one;
but, mostly, they did
what we told them to do.
You might say
that we loaded
the gun.

© Abigail Wyatt

Return Of O-levels As GCSEs 'Face Axe'

Abigail is one of the three founding members of the Red River Poets. The latter will be appearing at the Heartlands Project in Cornwall, 29th September, as part of 100 Thousand Poets for Change.

Education Goves From Bard to Verse

Belt up Bob the Builder
Pipe down Postman Pat
Thomas...a talking engine!
We've had quite enough of that
Time for you to realise
You're oiks...you're poor...you're thick!
Each day you'll chant some poetry
That should do the trick...
Yellow car...hat with a bell
Won't break your plebian coma
You will repeat a Noddy, see!
The one that was penned by Homer
Can't tell a Verb from a Conjunction?
Despite the lessons which you sat in
You'll never get to Eton
If you don't know your Latin
Forget Three Bears or Jack and Jill
And every childish story
You must rehearse this noble verse...
'Dulce et Decorum est, Pro Patria Mori'
'The Charge of the Light Brigade'
British lads rode to death or glory
No limbs blown off or screams of pain
That would be just too gory
You are now five...you're far too old
To be goggling at the telly
So sit up straight...repeat after Miss
As she recites from Keats and Shelley
Time to get your coats and trot off home
To your Daddy and your Mummy
But, as Larkin said, "They fuck you up..."
So you end up just a dummy
The Gove's Train just goes clattering on
As the Night Mail crossed the border
Issuing clouds of stale hot air
With every silly order
If, like that train, it brought ideas
Steaming from its funnel
Instead of gazing resolutely backwards
As it reverses up its own anal tunnel!

© Peter Flint

Schools poetry plan in national curriculum shake-up

Quiz: how much poetry do you know by heart?
 
Peter is 77, belongs to Rossington Writers' Group, Doncaster and writes short stories and poems for his grandkids. He taught for forty years...mainly English.

Unnatural Acts

Now, girls and boys, remember when you play
At public sector scroungers and physicians,
Be ever mindful what the Scriptures say
And only use the Lord's approved positions.

Yet take care and do not discriminate
Or bully or be nasty to the gays:
Until we bring back Section 28
We all must tolerate their sinful ways.

Are you confused? Can you not understand
These great and British rights you all have got?
You all are equal, save for pansies; and
The gays are equal save when they are not.

© Philip Challinor

'Anti-gay' book puts Gove at centre of faith school teaching row
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Philip blogs at 'The Curmudgeon' - He insists, "You'll come for the curses. You'll stay for the mudgeonry." Philip is the author of a number of books.