An Industrial Disease Called Ballotitis

Think what you could lose,
the holiday and the HP on the car.
And, don't forget, the fridge needs replacing.
Think about it, now you've come this far.
Surely you wouldn't want to risk your mortgage to spite us?
Not now you've got ballotitis.

The prospect of a good job,
could be yours, if you act reasonably now.
Look at it "realistically",
we can offer you what our dividends will allow.
We're all on the same side.
So, what's the point in trying to fight us?
Especially if you've got ballotitis.


Capability Red                    1984

The Visit

Note: The 1990's were a barren period for my poetry. The Visit is a rare offering:

                                                       The Visit:

It's a long time since I came here; nearly two years.
Time tends to numb emotion; no longer can I shed tears.
Your plaque was noticeably unattended.
As I thought: I'm the only one that still cares.
In a consumer society of greed, death is the common denominator we all share.

A humble tissue to clean your plaque, tenderly I kissed.
Looking down at the inscription: 'Dearly Loved Sadly Missed'.
It was a warm autumn afternoon,
as it was if I remember, the day you died.
I looked up and simply asked "why?".
But nobody replied.


Capability Red            aprox' 1992

Is There a Way Out ?

Barren as a blank page. Still, as the poet's sword rusts.
As sad as the solo violinist echoing notes of mistrust.
The apprentice asks: Is there a way out?

Suffering descendants of the virgin Mary's family tree,
are welcomed to Meanwhile where words can get so lonely.
The lexicon asks: Is there a way out?
                           Is there a way forward?

Truth remains out of focus through the hired cameraman's lens.
24 hour closed circuit politics bewilder blind battery hens.
The terrorist shouts: Is there a way out/
                               Is there a way forward?
                               Is there another way?

In rationed desolation the schoolboy's dream still lingers.
No clenched fist will form from nervous, trembling fingers.
The backstreets echo: There is a way out!
                                  There is a way forward!
                                  This is the way.
                                  Follow me................



Capability Red       Oct 2016

Wo is the Neutral Observer

Wo is the neutral observer,
as he rises from his chair.
His column has to be tight,
it's expected to be fair.

Wo is the neutral observer
he can't be everyone's friend.
Dreaming for the pipe smoker.
Yawning for the latest trend.

Wo is the neutral observer,
as he downs one more for the road.
Remembering the last edition,
carrying a burdensome load.


Capability Red            aprox' 1977

There is a Happy Land

They say; there is a happy land.
But, for us it's out of reach.
When you're born east of Aldgate.
With an impediment of the speech.

I know there is a happy land.
I got turned away at the gate.
Y'see: I never had those cricket captain's eyes.
And I kept on calling people; 'mate'.


Capability Red          June 2016

Another Dream

Rising from the lake a ghostly haze.
I dreamed I saw my unborn baby.
To the well my spirit ran.
Heart to heart, clutching my hand.
Guinevere thy treachery spoke.
Upon my soul I never eloped.
The day had come.
The night must go.
All is revealed of the land below.
Through valleys.
Over stiles.
My dream wanders countless miles.
A trodden path.
A chorus to sing.
Prepare to meet anything.


Capability Red                aprox' 1978

International Morons' Day

" Oi Ron. D'ya want some more?
   D'ya want some more, Ron? "

Fathers Day. Mothers Day. Every other buggers' day.
What about a new way with:
International Morons' Day.

Don't fit in? Never win? Burdened by original sin?
Never mind, just grin. It's:
International Morons' Day.

In doubt? Left out? Forever getting messed about?
Jump up and down and shout:
" It's International Morons' Day"


Capability Red               March 2016

Haunted

Help me. Help me.
Why did she whisper so?
There was an absence of accompanying music,
as her frail hand finally let go.

Wherever she wandered.
I couldn't follow. Neither could my eyes see.
But she reappears in this recurring dream:
Help me. Help me.


Capability Red        March 2016

The Initial Dream

Then the rain stopped, narrow rays of sunshine began filtering through thin layers of cloud.
I became vaguely aware that I was lying down. Looking up towards a rather tempestuous sky.
A beautiful arc of many colours captured my immediate attention.
So many colours without names.
Colours that mingled, yet remained distinguished.
Colours that had seen the light of day.
And I was smiling, although I had nothing to smile about.
I decided to make a wish, although there was nothing I was without.
And so.
I rose.
Gazing inquisitively around me.
I was not alone!


Capability Red           1978

Scrapbook

Her life is a scrapbook
of endless romances.
Flower power memories
not to mention the chances.
Friends won. Enemies lost.
The carving out of dreams,
zebra crossing meetings.
It now seems oh so different.
Festivals, fashions come and go:
So do lovers, doesn't she know.
Her life is a scrapbook
cuttings and headlines.
But are they really; two 'a penny?
Think once, think twice.
Perhaps there wasn't so many.


Capability Red            aprox'   1977