A poem inspired by the words of Boris Johnson, BBC News at Ten, 13 December 2020
“Clarity & Simplicity”
Detailed discussions.
Dead deal.
Done.
Copyright of poem owned by Jay Cool.
Image by Pexels from PixabayLooking At Where I Am
A poem inspired by Boris Johnsons Brexit negotiations, as reported by, BBC2 Newsnight, 10 December 2020.
Looking at where I am, I find myself at a dinner table, in Brussels, and
devoid of the anticipated fish dinner,
feeling downbeat, hungry, full of regrets
and with just
three weeks to go
before my people, The British, turn to feast,
in desperation, upon
each other.
Get a grip, I tell myself. Such an eventuality is really no big deal.
And on an upbeat note – unencumbered by Dom Boy, and unencumbered by the people –
it will be so easy for me, with such a very, very clear runway, to go that extra mile – and to
#TakeBackControl.
Complete and unadulterated sovereignty.
Better for Britain.
And, such is my situation that there is no
going back. Not for me. Now now. Not ever.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, 11 December, 2020
Of Most Concern
Of Most Concern
It concerns me,
mostly, that of most concern
is my concern that most of us
have no concern for the concerns of others
whatsover,
insomuch as that, mostly, most of us have no concern
whatsoever about being the cause of those
concerns. And that really does, and inordinately so,
concern me.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, December 2020
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Links to other posts:
Lockdown Dance
Lockdown Dance
Lonely in lockdown
I keep company with the colours of the many versions of myself,
all of them, dancing, wriggling, moving and shifting,
adjusting to a new idea of what it is to be
alive and thriving
a life-force, freeing themselves up from the conventions
of what it once was to be constrained, constricted and conquered by
the coiling, controlling, and certifying
constraints of Captains, Commanders and
Kings.
Copyright of poem & image owned by Jay Cool, December 2020
BBC1 News Summary, Nov 26, 2020
BBC1 News Summary
Bumpy, crystal clear, action and rules.
Shut down. Dramatic. Recap.
Can do; cant do.
Will do.
But, some, won`t do.
Will I do?
Summed up by Jay Cool
Nov 26, 2020
Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay`Measly, Nasty Cut`
‘Measly, Nasty Cut‘
With ease, he calls it measly,
a nasty, nasty cut, but how can a cut be measly,
when a cut is a lot less than a gash?
Copyright of poem owned by Jay Cool, November 2020
Written in response to a response (quoted from a guest on Channel 4 News, 7pm, Nov 26, 2020) to Rishi Sunak`s budget plans.
Tiers
Tiers
Wedding cakes, ra-ra skirts and playhouses;
scrumptious, trendy and entertaining.
Layers and layers of fun.
Tough tiers?
Restrictive, lonely, dull.
Necessary.
Piling up.
Mounting layers, upon layers, upon layers
of creativity.
Individual, multi-faceted, oodles and oodles of fun.
The self, unrestricted.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Nov 26, 2020
Image by Natalie White from PixabayTRUMP IN SITU
Am I, or am I not, the only person who cannot get an intrusive, but very much welcome, image out of my head?
Imagine this ……
Donald Trump in situ in his beloved Whitehouse, courtesy of a wall built around his unshiftable personage; a wall that forms a tailor-made, iron-grid-capped, cylindrical installation, inclusive of barred window, enabling its permanently-installed resident to view the carnage going on around him.
Under the direction of the outgoing First Lady, Melania, the debt-recovery bailiffs are removing the defeated President’s goods and chattels. Melania is pointing out her husband’s most valuable assets to the bailiffs, whilst simultaneously instructing servicemen – donning ‘Move On Quick’ caps -to transport her own belongings elsewhere.
Occasionally, in a spirit of generosity, Melania pauses to look up at her pitiful husband’s tomato-red face, which is squished against the no-expenses-spared, soundproofed glass. She sees that he is mouthing off sweet nothings, undoubtedly obscene. Responsive to his needs, as always, Melania waves at her beloved.
Trump, in a novel state of heightened perceptiveness, sees that his wife has never looked happier!
Making the assumption that Trump is literate, even though she has never witnessed him read a book, or sign his own name on a document, Melania cannot resist one last dig at the prisoner. Much to his distress, she disappears out of sight, only to return but minutes later with a large bedsheet of questionable cleanliness. Donald instantly recognises it to be the one he believed to be discreetly stashed away in his precious chest of keepsakes – the one he made sweet grunts upon with a particularly-attractive lady, who was not, incidentally, his wife.
Trump watches and squints, with some confusion, as Melania exchanges conversation with a couple of rather-handsome-looking, and young (as in Melania’s age), ‘Move On Quick’ guys. One takes off immediately; Trump observes that, despite the heavy items the hunk’s been shifting, he is smiling – almost lustfully. Is this nerd trying to make a Move On Melania? Does he really think he can get one up on President Trump, by virtue of his fake biceps? As if!
Quick-Move guy makes a hasty return with a ladder, holding it firm as his Move-Quicker workmate – at the ready with hammer and nails – ascends up the rungs at high speed, marrying up sheet corner with expectant cornice. Move-Quicker descends in a jiffy and resituates the ladder, steadying it beneath adjacent cornice, as Quick-Move copies and repeats the action.
As the bedsheet unravels to display itself to the full, some large lettering becomes apparent; Melania has been busy with her lipstick.
Judging by the unusual pallor of Trump’s face, it seems probable that the President in situ does, against all the usual rules of probability, have the ability to read.
Within nanoseconds, Trump’s complexion resumes its usual, if a touch unnatural, shade of over-ripe beefsteak.
Melania’s message is, after all, thinks Trump, another piece of the many morsels of evidence in his favour; one more example of the usual fake news. President Elect, indeed!
STEAL THE PRESIDENCY, STEAL MY WIFE AND STEAL MY REAL ESTATE! ALLIES (BORIS?), GET ME OUT OF THESE FAKE WALLS!
BRING IT ON, SLEEPY JOE – YOU FAKE!
TRUMP REIGNS FOREVER!
Copyright owned by Jay Cool , November 22, 2020
Scrunch
Scrunch
Disgust. Scrunch. Wrinkle.
A mistake, a mere typo, a masterpiece, rejected by its author, scrunched up tight and thrown at
Unwashed hair, with frizzy ends and greasy roots, scrunched up into a top-knot to
A scrunched up nose, wrinkled, its wearer`s disgust disguised by
And all of it with no need for any of it with
nothing and nobody to hide from
in this unseen
cell.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, November 2020
Image by ivabalk from PixabayA Different Way
A Different Way
Looking for a way through,
she sees a Different sign beckoning
pointing
showing her the way to go
the right way for such as she is
the right way for the different
but it looks busy
too much traffic
people crowding, following, trampling over each other in their eagerness to be the first to be different
so she digs deep into her ruck-sack and pulls out her own label,
attaching it to her face-mask, so that everyone can see
Alive & Normal
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, November, 2020
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 