Our Covid

(Covid is a global humanitarian crisis)  The visiting vicar filled our heads, at Primary School  on Thursday afternoons, with tales of gloom the testaments had prophesied:  floods and viral pestilence he couldn’t begin to describe.  He told us it was punishment  for being Humankind. #bees #waste #tinyspinningrock  Cherry Coombe. May 2021.

love

love  love, a blunt instrument, turned at will to wound (the injury appearing a chance consequence of circumstance – a karmic happenstance – likened to deforestation) cremates the will to give, to thrive, survive, shallows breath, leadens veins and bereaves

Un-wrest Covid’s unrest

within a year, I’d got the lot:  Tourette’s & ADHD; anorexia, assumed bulimia, probably; dreadful heart disease;  lung cancer and hypertension; terrible anxieties –  turning left at intersections, rather than the right, certain that the clutch would seize imagining the telegrams the children would receive; convinced by all the media warnings: health services were onContinue reading “Un-wrest Covid’s unrest”

64

64’s careless, insecure, unsure what the mortgage was for; rude to the boss, aggrieved, bereaved; feels 13, holding the parents’ car keys, freed; and parties, piles the lot on the pyre, aspires to die, why not? A cavalier year which fear garrottes. 64’s a being been.

Philip’s Laureate

If I were the poet laureate – as ifTough callThe pharmaceuticals cash in – as it’sUsual to lieWhen somebody it’s easy to dislikeDiesGet on the Citaloprin in case you cry Mother, father, monarch, mindEven if you don’t approve and findYou cryThat’s fine.You might be moved and even ifYou do – approve, So? And? Accidents ofContinue reading “Philip’s Laureate”

Stage

Easter came and penance paid a memory of Simnel,  one an aunt had made,  and later after Sunday’s roast,  picnic car-boot hail and sun,  betting on the last in race This year my neighbours laid a patio –  a stone-ground-marble-blasted stage.  It only took four days.

Not just All Women

Ferdinand Saussure explained the way that binaries are imposed through language. Identity is made up from the ‘othered’ things we’re not. (For example – I am not a man therefore I must be a woman.)  The early twenty first century addressed the verbal lacks that pose themselves to those who live between opposition’s tracks. WeContinue reading “Not just All Women”

Cuckoo

Cuckoo There is comfort in sounds: the sensation of next door’s washing, spinning; loud and bitter arguments filtering through heating vents; warning beeps on rubbish trucks backing into culdesacs, wintering summer’s tenements and tin-bin clanking detritus singing communities’ symphonies; whispers, pianissimo, drifting winds’ secrets shed in rustling papered autumn leaves, and birds re-chorusing territories, makeContinue reading “Cuckoo”

in lieu of

Covid Muses – do you miss the stuff that used to be enacted round the kitchen table – chats – coffee – life? Just someone else’s mess in the house or mud/armpits/dramas/joys/face/dress sense/addictions/obsessions/affairs/errors/successes/awards/contractual wins/love stuff/hair do/difference/similarity/arguments/making one think/ I miss the odd now and then – the odd drop in with a surprise – aContinue reading “in lieu of”

Alzheimer’s

Is it cruel whenlife does what it doesAs if to youIt’s only what its genomes doKilling friends you thought that youmight just predeceaseInfecting the most virtuousignoring all the worst of usWho thriveto spiteAll Bibles’ threatsof poxAnd your school’s best genius,the one born streets ahead of usLife swipescuts throughA child who surviveda LifeSplitin two.

What Not

Round Robin What I’ve not done:run, dusted,learnt a language,zoom-Zumba-Ed,baked banana bread,sorted out my socks;washed my hair,waxed or Naired,written a trilogy;labelled all the photographs my grandfather left me;rewritten my will,gone through all the detritusthat I know I should;travelled, meditated,decorated rooms;rearranged the saucepans,made a Christmas pud …

#Social Dilemma

Since the #SocialDilemma,We’ve all said, haven’t we?We watched the documentary,We know, we’re all agreed,We see, we understand dependency,We feel we must abscond and yet,despite the other things:the alcohol, the fags, the weed we’ve learnt to live without,as long as Fitbit tells us thatwe’re still moving about,We can’t resist the tweets’endorphins released:and feel, foolishly, but theContinue reading “#Social Dilemma”

Covid Gestalt

Covid Gestalt Here, where the room lives:its walls lined with memoriesand books;chairs changed by occupancies:arms worn;legs chapped;backs bent to the comfort of those moved on,gone to live in other rooms,gloom speaks to upholstery.Misery talks back. Here, where the room lives,a freeze framed archived symmetrynow lookssadly over what has been,and lost,and lacked.Silently, cacophony calls back.Voiceless, unsoundContinue reading “Covid Gestalt”

Extinct (WIP)

Extinct. I thought I’d choose a validated drug to see me through the floods that will soon draw attention from distractions formed by Brexiteers and those whose abject living fears are manufactured by themselves: Heads of countries, industries, feed our homes’ economies, and produce the death that David Attenborough’s explained, over and over and overContinue reading “Extinct (WIP)”

Tuesday

I got stuck, sometime on Tuesday,and haven’t left the house – The internet, a magnet, has turnedmy hands to poles, pulled to makeconnections, algorithmically controlled – As if, sometime on Tuesday,I’d become exposedto a deadly virus which has taken hold; Despite attempts, since Tuesday, towill the magnet’s poles’ inversion,block, at source, viral infection, Still, itContinue reading “Tuesday”

Mean-Averages

08 Head saidNext year our figures must improveI asked himHow?He quippedMore A stars on the listI askedAre next year’s cohort better taught than last?He laughedI saidI rest my caseLet’s see who comesbefore predicting grades 08 to 2020’s exams’-gateProves annual-and-mean-averagingMistakesAccidental birth for givenFate.

In Perpetuity

In perpetuity. What’s class in another’s town,head or place of birth?What’s worth?What’s status, power and agency elsewhere?Whose context governs how now’s seen?Who might you beor what can’t youfind the means to say or do?What is it that conditions you? What changes when you move?What limits and enables truthswhich otherwiseare fictions, too? Why, in pain,are anger,Continue reading “In Perpetuity”

Sucking up to pacifism

Sucking up to Pacifism. I am a nervous type,a batterable wife,annoying,curt, insensitive and bright;loud, an arrogant, opinionated swine;kind compassionate and wise;encouraged from an earlier ageto argue and to fight for rightsto have a chance to swaytomorrow’s world today. Now it’s here I find my viewsredundant anyway. I and others of the linewomen who insisted theyhadContinue reading “Sucking up to pacifism”

Us

Us. Don’t tell me what we’ll do, or what we must –who are ‘We’ and who’s your ‘Us’?I recognise the urgent needto redress inequalitiesand examine history’sstories which afforded mevoice and libertyas a member of the ‘we’those who’ve always had a voicein the closed communitybeing one of ‘us’. Self appointed, virtuous,Leaders say it’s up to ‘Us’ToContinue reading “Us”

A Transaction with Trevor

Dedicated to River – for running (errands) and delivering existential advice. What follows is about as thrilling as watching paint dry. Something I have developed a love for, deferred since I have yet to develop a love for decorating. That is, unless you have spent your life trying to work out how Transactional Analysis describesContinue reading “A Transaction with Trevor”

The Void is all the rage

2.5.2020 (Day 44 Living Alone – Social Distancing) The Void is all the rage                                 When I first decided to stay at home, on March 17th 2020, I wrote a complicated timetable of daily activities.  The day was organised to enable me to thrive: physically, mentally and emotionally but most important of all, to ensure IContinue reading “The Void is all the rage”

Brooker’s Mirror

Brooker’s Mirror’s on the street.Fear shapes: choreography;Distancing and self-policing,Shielded by a mask;Limited communicationMonitored, on-line;Being tracked by ApsDesigned to traceRoutes the virus takes,Evidenced by snap-chat-vid-shots,Of the advisedHour-long jogs,Subjects take andSubmit, give upFor the better good.Brooker’s Mirror’s on the street.

Perspective: for Ron Freeborn.

I’m grateful for the sun, today,My son and daughter, everydayMy granddaughter moreThan even I can say.I’m glad they thrive,we’ve all survived,As yet.I’m in debt to those who left,Bequeathed,An attitude of mind:Accountants who had column listsOf uncounted giftsSocialists who understood that taxWas a way of giving backConservatives who knewI could do more than I doLiberals whoContinue reading “Perspective: for Ron Freeborn.”