So ?

So sad the faithful mongrel
searching as he is led,
knowing someone is missing,
the old man is dead.

So still the cemetery
on a misty November morn,
silent the sky,
grey clouds hang forlorn.

So gullible the flock
herded by the bell,
do they really believe
in heaven? or hell?

So what the prayer
that echoed so cold,
reverberating fear
for those in the fold.

So peculiar this existence,
that passes as life,
condolences offered;
" now he's with his wife".

So hopelessly understated,
so little do we know,
the distant fleeting dream
that is never quite so.


Capability Red          2012

Piranha's Progress

Mmmmmm?

Yum yum yum,

Snap snap snap,

Gulp gulp gulp.

Ahhhhhhhh!

Burp.........



Capability Red 2012

There is a Rumour

There is a rumour,
that she has got a sense of humour.
Clinical laughter.
That is what she is after.
Available on prescription,
guaranteed to lead to addiction.

There is a profit,
and you may have a share of it.
A hospital ward,
that you could never afford.
Insurance for your wife,
premiums for the rest of your life.

There is a station,
it used to be my destination.
But now it's shut.
The buses have all been cut.
She casts a shadow of unemployment,
so nourishing for a warped enjoyment.

There is a Minister,
his post is somewhat sinister.
A master baiter,
confrontation sooner or later.
Rhetoric well rehearsed.
Under her spell, he is cursed.

There is a plot,
you hear about it quite a lot.
Do take it serious.
You could end up delirious.
It'll swell your growing brain tumour,
if you haven't got a sense of humour.

It's not just a rumour!



Capability Red 1981

Burnt Out

Little children do you know? The writing's on the wall.
Sprayed on the buildings you pass on your way to school.
It says: " There's a world waiting . Full of discontent".
You may have read about it in the colour supplement
When you're old enough to wear a uniform,
things start to get involved,
you learn about those problems,
that have never, ever, been solved.
And all the expectations, your parents thought you'd fulfill.
Will end up smouldering in the bush fire at the bottom of the hill.
Burnt out!
Like the cremated beliefs your parents used to have faith in.
Wasted along with the charred remains,
of a society, that just couldn't wait.

Did you ever get a puppy for christmas? Did he end up on the street?
The good things in life don't come gift wrapped.
You've got to learn to walk on your own two feet.
Today I saw an old lady,
knocked down by a shiny new law car,
when they tell her little grandson,
will they explain how things really are?
Will they introduce him to the person he will inevitably become?
Or, will they let him have it with both barrels,
of that overprotective gun?
As the sands of time trickle away,
we might as well just burn,
'cos the lessons passed on through generations,
we're never, ever gonna learn!
We're all burnt out!
Like the cremated beliefs our parents used to have faith in.
Wasted along with these charred remains.
In a society that will never, ever wait.


Capability Red aprox' 1985

Thoughts of a 'Cheap Fares' Campaigner

If power is in the mind
and I'm convinced that I'm right,
why do they shackle my body
so that I cannot fight?
With chains of statute
that can't be broken,
forbidding words
I, might never have spoken.
The people chose, the people elected.
But the Lords decided; 'it must be rejected'.
If voting could change anything
it would be banned.
As would anything that might discolour
this green and pleasant land.

Are these the words of an angry young man?
But I'm not that bloody young.
I am but one in a million,
yet another raging tongue.
The candle of subversion burns
at the line of balanced views,
snap! what a weight off my mind,
thou shalt never be refused.

Where do you go to when you're done?
and you've finished for the day?
How did you get there in the first place?
Did you ever have to pay?
Would I recognise you in a crowd?
Do you look like my MP?
Are you powerful without your disguise?
Or is this democracy by decree?

Do you believe what you read?
Or, do you read between the lines?
When the forked tongues of Fleet Street
sweeten the slime.
Never have the jaws of the gentry
found meat so easy to chew,
never the minds of so many,
been poisoned by the pens of so few.


Capability Red 1982

My Husband Works On The Buses

My husband works on the buses,
he didn't want to go on strike,
he's got a free bus pass,
but he goes to work on a bike.
My husband works on the buses,
although he's a plumber by trade,
and he's a dab hand at woodwork,
you ought to see the playpen he made.
My husband works on the buses,
but we're hoping things will get better,
still, he earns a few pounds on the side,
as a part time pools collector.
My husband works on the buses,
sooner or later, things must improve,
we're saving up to buy our own house,
so that we can sell it. And move.
Yes! My husband works on the buses.


Capability Red aprox 1985

I, Idealism

I stepped inside the dream of a worker,
my leading question gave me away.
They found me guilty of breaking and entering,
my fears were realized and that's the price I pay.
I got in through the first floor window,
of a semi detached open mind.
A stranger in the realm of platitudes,
not what I expected to find.
Emulsioned tongues whitewashed the truth,
a dormant brain had forgotten to think.
Politely English, just like saying 'sorry',
rotten to the core and yet it didn't quite stink.

I cried inside the dream of a worker,
unashamedly, I burst into tears.
Beyond reproach like a fall out victim,
the dream fades then disappears.
Festering wounds of defeatism,
had scarred him for life he didn't want to know.
Living day to day in a world of drudgery,
But I ask you, where else can he go?

I died inside the dream of a worker,
they tortured me as I screamed aloud.
The worker can have no peace of mind,
so he finds comfort in the crowd.
Make sure he earns enough to pay the mortgage,
accumulating interest on the holiday loan.
He can afford a pint if he works overtime,
and watch TV when he's on his own.
But shed a tear for this dead ambassador,
this cold utopian head of state.
Who never had those cricket captain's eyes,
and forgot to call people 'mate'.


Capability Red 1988