The antichrist will appear

“The antichrist will appear”
And maybe he did
Perhaps pulling a small cannon
Over the muddy trenches
Then, one day he was chosen
Admired for his guttural smoke and fire
And his army courage
And he was lifted up amongst some angels
That dressed in black leathers
And had rows of feathers for wings

The antichrist will appear
Like a poisonous flower in a bloody field
And grow out of the ruins
Like a stone cracking giant robotic
That grabs the tail of the fleeing lizard
And with his film-star know-how suave egotism
He becomes the Messiah to the refugees
And promises them the power and the kingdom
And the blood of their enemies
And weapons from the Ruhr

The antichrist will appear
And out of the mountains he came
Down into the turmoil of the land
Of misfortune and political chaos
Th father of the country
The new father like the old father
With a building program for the people
And a social program for the people
That was layer upon layer
Of graveyards dressed in flags

The antichrist will appear
Out of history like a golden thorn bush
There was to be no god but him
No people but his
No kingdom but his
And all would be made pure

They ask where is God

They ask
Where is god?
where is God?
and the two
are confusing

god is an enemy
of God
but no one knew
how to distinguish them

god is the ruler of the world
God is the creator of the earth

So they asked
Where was god
When all this happened?
It was god
Who made it happen
So that you
Wouldn’t believe
In God

And god
Created the antichrist
And gave him
A tumble-down nation
Falling to pieces

And he led them
Out of slavery
And into world war

And god said
It is good
God will be defeated
In their eyes
And have to give
The world over
To god

And the antichrist
Fought for world domination
With promises
Of a world ruled
By him
But overseen by god

But the antichrist
Was beaten
By his own hubris
And he was never seen again
And nothing could resurrect him
And when he died
His kingdom died with him

Now that I am a German poet

Now that I am a German poet
I can be as German as I like
But what is a German poet
A crumpled up/Mid European/Newspaper

Now that I am a German poet
And I loved apart
Like a dent in someone’s car
-is this true? –
I suffer with you
Over events beyond your control

America wants to withdraw
Back to the days
Before the war
They were happy then
Like people at a wedding reception

But we have no rest
We stick the peg into the next notch up
Watching the sky’s theatrical daybreak
For angels playing flutes dressed as ancient Greeks
And productions of a heavenly Shakespearian production in the skies
And the master of ceremonies to close the show
Due to an air raid

Now I am almost
A German poet
Framed for war
And second world war
And for
The antichrist
That promised
A kingdom of a thousand years
A pure race of Aryans
A world empire
A messianic kingdom
But if you think that the antichrist was bad
Make way
For leviathan

The giants causeway

To walk on the giant’s causeway
Step by step
Is to get closer
To the perfect find

To walk
The giants causeway
Is to stand
On a million years
Of variety performances

To walk the giant’s causeway
Is to feel the hammers of the earth
Release flocks of doves the size of rocks

To walk the giant’s causeway
Even the knowledge of its existence
Expects you to be free

A face in shreds

The Iranian children
Had the work
Of putting back together
The shredded strips of paper
Of the six diplomats
Who worked at the American embassy

Now in hiding
And faceless
In a dark room
In the Canadian ambassador’s residence

Look said one child
I have half a face now
One diplomat dreamed
He had half a face

Look said another child
This face looks like it’s behind bars
Another diplomat
Dreamed of looking through prison bars
One child could not find
All of the strips
That made up his photo
Perhaps they had been burned
In the fire

One diplomat
Dreamed that his face was on fire

One child could not find
Amongst the heaps of shredded paper
Any face at all

Look said the soldier
This face is missing
From the dream file
One diplomat
Who didn’t have any dreams
At least felt confident

One child
Was horrified to see
A faceless hanged man
Swinging from a crane
And went home in tears

That was my face
Said the child
In one diplomat’s dream

A child had a complete picture
Of a diplomat
Who woke up in the night
And staring into the mirror
Saw his face in shreds

Born too late

After the feast was over
When the boulders had crashed onto the table
And the birds came out to eat the crumbs
And the snake coiled itself up to sleep
And the rebuilding work was underway
And the naked bodies hung in the sky like rain
And the blood of the meat was splashed like graffiti on the wall
And the wine could not find another vein
And all the hero’s had left their seats and gone their separate ways
And the dust settled right up to the roof
And we wandered about the sand with only the myth
And we looked for the gate that was gone
And we searched for the table that was sawdust
And hope took us into the wilderness like starving sheep
And the signs pointed to a storm out at sea
And darkness finally covered over our bones
And the epitaphs on our tombs read – born too late

once again I was thinking about the decade of the 1960’z when we were overloaded with a cultural feast, up to today, when it’s obvious that it’s gone for good now.

epic tales of worlds gone by

They built the temple

They built the temple of Babylon
Upon Gods order
It fell upon
But they still had the processional way
And it’s with us
To this day
And continued across Asia and Europe too
And went to America
As the great highway
And amongst the cars and the athletes
Running along
A prisoner for sacrifice
With a ceremonial song

In my sleep

In my sleep
I open up
With an eye

I see
A man from the sky
Come down
A sky slope

He whispers
Hope, hope

The men
In the sky
I envision them
Trying to think

I try my best
Not to lose them
Then I blink
Blink, blink

Epic tales of worlds gone by

The American tribe Indian lived there for comet year
You see them on the plain and forest in daily life

But miles and miles away the siege machines began
And The knights fought for land and throne

The American Indian don’t seem to have had throne
They had a seal upon them and that was all they asked for

Then came the galleon with horses and pikes and Catholics
Who ripped away the seal upon them and gave them disease

Then doomsday began to ride into the heart of America
Who’s word was death and who’s heart was a prison

the whisper


The whole population of England

The whole population of England
Gallops like a herd of mustang through the canyon
Chased by a few cowboys shooting guns
In one last bid for the wide-open places
Before the meat factory consumes them

The whole population of England
Is singing one song together
Listened to by no one, nowhere
I am the dead man singing
A sound they hear if they listen
In their dreams alone at night

England is taken

England is taken, England is gone
Imprisoned in a car compound
We will never see her again

We spend our lives in slavery
What little we had of England has been sold
We work like ants and we are expendable
In exchange for our futile existence
In exchange for our fragile security
We have sold England

“Here take this piece
I want to be famous;
There take that piece
I want to be rich”

There is plenty for everyone
For the greedy
For the foreigners
For the Americans (apologies)
For the middle class
Money buys everything
Even England

On the last night of the proms inside they sing
Britain never will be slaves
But outside they are already rattling their chains

The round table of legend

The round table of legend
Was left outside for the council to collect
Children smashed it up
Tramps used the parts to build a fire

The round table of legend
Became more than just a table
It became England
It became the English way

The round table of legend
We have all wanted to take our seats there
To feel a part of the government
To feel a part of England

The giants are using England

The giants are using England
They place one foot upon her backbone
And move the other foot across onto the world

The one world of the politicians is a carcass
”Wherever the carcass is
There the vultures will be also”

England will you live to see your freedom
Englishman and women will you live to know your freedom
“All you need is love”

Shakespeare in the Empirical age

Shakespeare in the Empirical age
Became a gift and was exchanged for gold
Shakespeare in the Industrial Age
Became a nightingale singing on a coal slag
Shakespeare in the academic world
Became a headless doll for them to play with
Shakespeare in the digital age
Has become a man to tell lies about

England does no one care about our tears

England does no one care about our tears
That so many soldiers have shed
Along with their lives on foreign conquests
Where has it all gone? What did it pay for?

Some silk, some jewellery, some spices
And in return the responsibility to foreign shores
Small Island with so many great minds
The sea around you turns to blood and diamonds

England does no one want to know about our tears
That covers the land, the rain-soaked earth
Do Englishmen turn away back to their living rooms?
Trying not to think about the pat
The days of power and glory gone like smoke from a gun
But the sorrows remain in a million hidden lives
The treasure that death leaves behind in the hearts of children

England, I feel there’s something wrong

England, I feel there’s something wrong
As if I sleep on the wrong side of the bed
As if I were left-handed
As if my cupboard drawer won’t open and when it does it’s empty
As if I spend my career listening to the wrong people
As if I try too hard to fit in with the rogues of the earth
As if I were being made to be something I’m not
Yes England that seems true
It’s as if I were being made to be something I don’t want to be
And it’s crippling me inside

Reluctant hero, what choice is there but to follow the leader into the fray
With his old political ambitions
Maybe he’ll scrape back some of the old glory for us
I know the desire for glory is still strong
You can lift the whole table cloth by a pinch of the fingers
And remove it from the tabletop
And that is tempting you beyond endurance
Yes and that’s how I feel, like a crumb that’s gone with the tabletop

But England, look at yourself now before it’s too late
Restore the market place and the corner shop
Bring back the pubs and the art school
Roll up the motorway they will never stretch as far as America
Put some sanity back into your urban places
Give back to the children what you’ve taken away
Give everyone a home to be proud of
Not a soup kitchen in a rabbit hutch
Not a layer cake melting in the sun
Do not squeeze people in your homes with their own walls
Where you have to go and pee side by side like cattle
A throwback to the militarisation of the country
That rode on the back of industrialisation
That took away our liberty in return for fast food and plastic cups

England why do you herd us like cattle
With the same technique you use to keep farms
Why do you farm us like farm animals
Don’t lie and say it’s not true
Don’t give us the statistics, the polls, the census
Don’t say things like British people are better off today than ever
I’ve been in the rush hour that never ends
I see the rat-race at home time
The overcrowded buses and trains
The flight out of the country on holiday
Who can blame us for wanting to leave you?
We’ve spent to long-standing in a que

Managerial England

Managerial England
I’m tired of your puppet show
Where you sit at large tables
In judgment of us all

England what has happened to you

England what has happened to you
Your roots are slowly being destroyed
By the Church, the class system and political self-preservation

England belongs to its people
That used to work in the fields all year
That was taken to work in factories and the wars
Now they think you don’t even exist

The land has been enslaved by industry
There is nowhere you can go that isn’t owned
There is little land freedom for its people

Little children are afraid to go into the fields
Couples are afraid to go off the pathways
Old people are trapped indoors by social services
The nation is being twisted out of shape

From the Orkneys to the Isle of White
Freedom is interpreted as a commodity
Well thank you parliament so good of you
To allow us to live on our own land
You who sent the servant girl to die in Australia
I walk through the English countryside

I walk through the English countryside
It is twilight when I come upon a small village
I walk through the street and then I realise
They are not houses that stand side by side
They are souls dream-like in the moonlight

I wander in and out of the silent standing houses
Listen I can hear a whisper of a real voice
On the other side of those reflective images
Look and I see dreamlike spirits flash by the windows
The windows of people’s souls

The roving clouds of England

The roving clouds of England
Of different shapes and sizes
Different moods and guises
No one understands

Like the crowds below them
Forming and dispersing
Their laughter and their cursing
Forms like shifting sands

England, where is your soul

England, where is your soul
Under a motorway
Under a housing estate
Chased by foxhounds
Is it a Saxon design
Buried under the ground
Where the thunderclouds go to when they’re spent
Is it the imprint of a long-forgotten forest

The laughter of the soul of England
The tears of the soul of England
The wild heart that hasn’t been seen for a hundred years or more

It’s as if no one loves her
Her people stay indoors
Her people escape to foreign lands

Somewhere, long ago
Something’s rote in the earth
In a strange forgotten language
Here is the heart of the land
And tried to preserve for all time
With an ancient seal
With an ancient song

Where are those people?
Where is the heart of England?
Where is the soul of England?

A people wounded still by history
Dangers in the darkness of a high cloud
Circling around across the country

A people of machinery and little houses
A people swamped by the temptations of the old empire
A people cut off from their own ancestors
A people lost in the darkness of god shadows

Tied up in polythene
Returned to the factory that remade them

A strip by strip of land
Was sold off to great Babylon
The power of the world Babylon
Who brought their souls with its promises?
A spirit turned into matter
A love rolled out into celluloid
Put behind you the engine, put behind you the wars
Ask of ourselves this now
Where is the soul of England?

The animals and the birds have left you
All that’s left are the foxes and the crows
The weather has turned against you
With the storms and fires and the quaking earth
The governments slide towards the edge of the whirlpool
The state religion’s like fat-bellied cows
And your people swell in numbers like leaves on a branch
They eat, sleep, marry, divorce
And every day the bad news stings them like the stings of ants and wasps

England, so unilateral

England, so unilateral
So lazy, so hungry
For regulations
To take the place of thought

At this time of the end
Sticking to regulations
In denial of them
Like a three-wheeled train
On an icy track

What support is this?
A broken mirror of words
Taped back together
Dangerous and limp in the hands

You cannot make the iron
Mix with the clay
Not even with these regulations
That spawns out of your belly

This ticket machine of rules
That you gave to the bus conductor
But no even the bus
Has come from a sausage machine

England so fix and fit
So lazy towards visions
That you give to your baker
To roll out and divide
Into easy bites