The image not the person
Is what we often see.
Sometimes this diversion
Makes prisoners of the free.
What are the examples
Spread across this land?
Do they answer people’s needs
Or our youth understand?

That life is one big party
Is a current theme,
But what if there’s no money
To support the people’s dream.
A secure foundation
Of ancient laws must keep
Rising through our nation
Which seems to be asleep.

Dream on fair youth on stair ways
Quietly getting stoned.
What is your inheritance
If we have not atoned?
If crime, bombs and warfare
Are what the people see
And getting, getting, getting
The new philosophy.

Each weary band of workers
Crushed into a train
Surrounded by the adverts
Of what they seek in vain.
Surely love and courage
Will protect the minds of some
But who’ll undo the damage
The governments have done?


Across cornfields
The empty sky.
Gone, gone are
The buildings high.
Gone, gone are motor cars.
They have returned
The silver stars.

And the bright technology
Has been vanquished
No electricity.
No gas, no heat
No telephone.
Man outlined on the sky

And now the human
must survive
In a world without
comfort and he
Must strive
Working the land
And woman too
Must begin to learn
Old things anew

Who is the enemy
That one blames?
Was it the Russians
Or the Americans who
Destroyed the modern
World in flames
Or was it me and
Was it you?


I learnt to stand up for the Queen
And to praise the British Empire.
They didn’t say what it did mean.
I only found out this had been
Achieved by theft and gun fire.
Once I was grown
Those seeds deep sewn
Were bitterly disputed.
It’s now too late to atone
The history I could not own
Was brutally uprooted.

They told us of the bravery,
But not about the slavery.
Can we come to terms with it?
And everyone of us admit
The truth about our past?
And tear the veil of mystery
Once more from our history
And all of us accept reality at last!


Doors slamming.
Cars bleeping.
Wind howling.
Not sleeping.
Babies yowling.

Bed creaking.
Music playing.
Radio speaking.
Dogs baying.
Tap leaking.

Engines roaring.
Rain pattering.
Husband snoring.
Wind battering.
Neighbours chattering.

Siren screaming.
Phone ringing.
Sun beaming.
Birds singing.
Morning gleaming.


They disconnect
Your intellect
The tabloids
Every day
With headlines
Made to catch the eye
To stimulate
A hue and cry
With shapely girls
At play.

Footballer’s escapades
And film stars
Wearing shades
And who is
And isn’t gay.
The media can annoy,
Or brain cells
With sensations stale
Expenses fraud
Ignore the Lord
And read
The Daily Mail?

Life must be a mess
In the Express
With all its rage.
It causes stress.
Surely written
From duress
The angry front page!
‘Bonkers, perverts
Scroungers, cheats’
This verbal violence
us all in shops
Where children go!

From the papers
The language has
Done much harm
Annihilating words
Of charm.
A blight on everyone:
The paper called ‘The Sun’
Too many people want to read.
We have this need
For self righteous
To sweep away the blame
And find love
sacrificed for fame
And blight
With the language of
Another generation!


The sun still shines in many places.
We no longer reign supreme.
Will Britain with her many faces
Change to a more loving theme?

The rain still falls on green Britain.
Homes continue to be built.
Gone the power history’s written
Time has not assuaged our guilt.

Though we walk in paths congested
Breathing fumes of London’s air,
The good food we have digested
Confirms the privilege of care.

The work ahead may seem endless.
Most refugees are still not fed.
While they often seem so friendless
And too many now are dead.

Will world leaders work together
To improve things for the poor
And not leave them wondering whether
Life’s worth living any more!