THE INTERNET IS WATCHING

It knows the times

you sleep and wake,

and when you work

or take a break,

and every choice

you ever make —

the internet is watching. 

It clocks the things

you say and do,

with prying eyes

it spies on you

and launches a

surveillance coup —

the internet is watching.

It tracks you with

its laser sight,

observing you

both day and night.

Forever trapped,

you can’t take flight —

the internet is watching. 

Its pincers poke

inside your brain;

You can’t opt out,

you can’t abstain,

so mind your step

and don’t complain —

the internet is watching.

NEW POEM: W****RS ON THE BEACH

WANKERS ON THE BEACH

Wankers on the beach

They’re streaming in

Cheek to cheek

With peeling skin

Rammed and crammed

And jammed like hogs

Wobbling bellies

Screaming sprogs

Wankers on the beach

In all their glory

Clapping nurses

Voting Tory

Spreading germs

And leaving mess

Sun and stupor

Coalesce

Wankers on the beach

Don’t give a stuff

Sod all this

They’ve had enough

Fast and loose

And not complying

Seize the day?

They’re carpe die-ing.

POWERFUL POEM BY SONIA, YEAR 9

My wife is an English Teacher, and I am very honoured to be able to share the following poem, written by one of her Year 9 students, in her own time. I hope you are as impressed by Sonia's extremely powerful words as my wife and I were:

What do we have to do? By Sonia Year 9

I don't understand

What we have to do

We’ve screamed and shouted but don’t seem to cut through

The hatred and fear that these politicians hold

They only trust themselves,

don’t listen to what they’re told

Don’t listen to the screams and the sorrows

Don’t listen to the voices of tomorrow

Don’t listen to the people whose power

they have stolen, not borrowed.

I strive to understand for just one day

Understand the racism,

understand the pain

Of being judged every second of your life

Just because of your skin,

just because you’re not white.

And while the politicians try to justify

Every single lie,

try to change our minds

Everyone knows this isn’t a one-time thing

This was the tip of the iceberg,

and now it’s time to sing.

It’s time to stand with the brethren,

who have been taken to heaven

By murderers who murdered kids who were only seven-

Teen, barely starting his life

he was murdered in cold blood.

Zimmerman, i’ve been reconsidering,

it’s pretty disheartening

One bad white man

and trayvon had to fight for his life

This isn’t a joke,

You didn’t have a knife,

You had a gun,

He tried to run

But that country is a mess

Forget the flag, forget the fucking pledge

That piece of human garbage-the president;

is about to be tipped over the edge

No, there isn’t a flaw in the system, the flaw IS the system,

If he’d just sit down and listen

But he can’t.

That man is not a man he is a child.

How can he run our country,

the country is fucked up

And because of it innocent people are dying on its unforgiving hands

In its unforgiving lands

and there’s no going back

The stack has stacked on stack

on stack on stack

It’s about to topple over so

Trump

watch your back

RHYME ADDICTION

I just can’t help but rhyme.

I do it all the time. 

I crowbar it into my poems

and sometimes it doesn’t…slime. 

I’m a rhyming kind of guy.

Don’t even ask me why. 

Perhaps I shouldn’t force it though

since everyone says that…pie.

See rhyming is just what I do.

I’m a rhymer through and through. 

I often try to shoehorn it

when people think it's…moo. 

Sometimes it makes no sense

but I can’t sit on the fence,

so I’ll simply go and cram it in

even when I...hence.

NEW POEM: MY BUDDY

My Buddy

My buddy is an outcast.

Yes, her reputation’s bad.  

Some say she’s superficial,

others claim she drives them mad. 

She gets up people’s noses

and she may be a pariah

but I swear I’ll never leave her

for she’s all that I require. 

My buddy is creative

and she likes to josh about. 

Some say she isn’t serious 

and that she’s lacking clout

but she’s really very loving

as she wraps you in her arms.

Although the masses don’t agree,

I love her quirky charms. 

No, my buddy isn’t popular.

She hasn’t many fans

but she helps me with my reading

and her name is Comic Sans.

NEW POEM: NUMBER ONE GRAN

NUMBER ONE GRAN

She’s my granny, my nan,

my number one fan,

when I say I can’t do it

she tells me I can.

When I pen a nice rhyme

to deposit online

and no one reacts,

she’ll opine that it’s fine.

She’ll say I’m the best

so I best not get stressed.

With a groupie like her

I confess I am blessed. 

She’s my granny, my nan,

I’m her man, she’s my stan

on Twitter and Facebook

and on Instagram.

Whenever I’m lewd

or I’m crude or a pseud,

she’ll still click on ‘like’

so I feel like a dude.

She don’t know the lingo

or understand slang,

she votes for the people

my verses harangue 

but her love for me?

She can’t help but show it,

for I am her hero,

her grandson: the poet.

MORE BRILLIANCE FROM ST LAWRENCE PRIMARY - 'MATHS POEMS'

Along with Catton Grove Primary, St Lawrence CE Primary, in Hampshire, have been regularly getting in touch with me during the lockdown, engaging with the creative activities I have been setting online. One of my recent challenges was to write Maths Poems, in which pupils turn themselves into mathematical equations, as in my poem above. This is a wonderful, cross-curricular activity, which both helps children grasp the fundamentals of mathematics, and explore their own identity. How many more boxes could you possibly want to tick?! Anyway, with this in mind, here are some lovely poems from the pupils of St Lawrence Primary, from right the way across the age range:

BITTER ON TWITTER

Was it because of those pictures of cats?

Was it because I had too many spats?

Was it because of my tinfoil hat?

O, where have my followers gone?

Was it because I support the wrong team?

Was it because I’m a bit too extreme?

Was it because of that old racist meme?

O, where have my followers gone?

Was it because I was giving it large?

Was it because my self-pride’s supercharged? 

Was it because I praised Nigel Farage?

O, where have my followers gone?

Was it because I said BLM sucks?

Was it because I call everyone ‘cucks’?

Was it because I’m an arsehole-deluxe?

O, where have my followers gone?

Perhaps it’s because I make everyone sick.

Perhaps it turns out that I’m simply quite thick.

Perhaps it was just that unwanted dick-pic...

O, where have my followers gone?

A poem for Dominic Raab, Foreign Secretary

LAME OF THRONES

(or: GAME OF GROANS)

(or: TAKE THE PEE)

Dominic Raab

Dominic Raab

Tarted up smart

In his sharp-suited garb

Toadying

Grovelling

Slavishly

Chumming

Let us all hope

That his Winter is Coming

on 18/06/20, Dominic Raab embarrassingly and erroneously claimed in an interview that the phrase 'Take The Knee' originated with TV series Game of Thrones

TWO NEW NURSERY RHYME THINGS

SEA LION

I see

a sea lion

lying in the sea

In fact I see

a trio there

one, two, three

I see

three sea lions

lying by the quay

Can they see

me seeing them?

We’ll just have to see

Where, Wolf?

Werewolf

Where, wolf?

Over there, wolf!

Howling in the meadow

at the moon full-bright

Werewolf

Where, wolf?

Over there, wolf!

Prowling through the forest

in the deep, dark night

Werewolf

Where, wolf?

Over there, wolf!

Crazy flashing eyeballs

and a very hairy back

Werewolf

Where, wolf?

Over there, wolf!

Coming here to get us

and it's ready to attack!

'EMOTIONS' - MORE BRILLIANT POETRY FROM CATTON GROVE PRIMARY

The fantastic students at Catton Grove Primary school have been regularly engaging with the poetry ideas I have been posting on Twitter and other places during the lockdown. Their teacher Scott recently got in touch with another wonderful batch of poetry, which I am delighted to share on my blog once again. The challenge I set was to pick an emotion, and to describe it using metaphors. They rose to the challenge, and I am excited and honoured to share the following selection of poems:

Anger by Alfie 


Anger is a volcano ready to erupt
Anger is bomb about to blow up
Anger is a flame about to rise up
Anger is a firework about to ignite
Anger is a mum about to shout
Anger is a starving lion
Anger is an aggressive tiger
Anger is a feeling everyone has
Anger is an emotion.

Pride by Jack

Pride is the dragon that swoops up above everyone else.

Pride is that feeling you get allowing you to be above the top of the top.

Pride is the burning feeling inside when you make a masterpiece.

Pride is the sensation of happiness at the expense of others.

Pride is not a bad thing if you know how to use it.

Let pride get the best of you...

Happiness by Julia

Happiness is waking up in the morning with the sun shining through the window.
Happiness is fireworks bursting inside your body when you are filled with joy.
Happiness is the feeling of achievement when you have worked hard on something.
My family and friends bring me happiness.
Happiness is when you slurp down your spaghetti
Happiness is when you see someone that you love open a gift that you spent time making.
Happiness is little kids squealing and giggling when they play.
Laughing until your tummy hurts is a sign of happiness.
You can’t see happiness but we can all share it and enjoy it.

Depression by Vilte

Depression is when you don’t what to live but you’re too scared to die.

Depression is a black windowless room.

Depression is a trap that’s hard to escape from.

Depression is a monster inside your head.

Depression is pain and fear that you can’t take anymore.

Depression eats you alive until you give up.

Depression is torture.

LOCKDOWN KITTY - FUN POEM

A POEM FOR D*N*LD TR*MP - BUNKER BABY

BUNKER BABY

Behold the Bunker Baby

in the cradle where he lies. 

He throws his temper tantrums

and emits pathetic cries. 

He will not use his potty.

He’s a snotty little brat.

He eats and tweets and beats his meat

beneath his MAGA hat.

He sucks his pacifier

as his country’s left to rot,

and from his oval orifice

he shits himself a lot.

SAD!

CANCELLED

As a poet, I view myself as a sort of chronicler of the times, and since March there has been a lot to chronicle. As well as the ongoing shenanigans around Covid, we are seeing a seismic shift in views around what is and is not acceptable in the Arts. Sensitivities are currently very high, and programmes such as Little Britain have now been cancelled. One wonders what is going to be next. I feel that, as a poet, I cannot let this moment slide without penning a verse or two about it, so here goes:

SELF ISOLATION LOVE

If self isolation is getting you down

and you’re feeling unloved and alone;

if mornings begin with a scowl and a frown

and your evenings end up with a groan,

there’s a step you can take that will bolster your pride

and rekindle those feelings of worth.

It’s a thing you can do if your ego has died

and your joy’s buried deep in the earth.

It starts with your phone: simply fire it up —

now it’s time for a bit of ‘self care’.

When you swallow a sip from your own loving cup

you don’t need to be part of a pair.

So blow your own horn! Toot your own flute!

Yes throw your own doggie a bone!

Take time to delight in your hard labour’s fruit

as you get yourself back in the zone.

Now why do you give me that quizzical look?

Tell sadness to get on its bike!

All I’m saying is this: log into Facebook

and give your own status a ‘Like’.