Imperial Thoughts

back and forth the argument goes

she could follow the thread if she wanted to

but her mind drifts on other thoughts

of sunny endless times

and 26 inch waists

{she wonders when she stopped mentally translating imperial into metric}

she thinks of diets and books

and who in their right mind would pay $32,000 for a dress

{skewed priorities}

when it could buy a whole library of adventures

she thinks on landlords and a quick buck

of people trapped in life

and burning infernos

she tunes back in for a moment

only to realise the argument

has tied itself in knots

it could take years to unravel

{keep them occupied for the rest of the term}

she sidles back within

has a cup of tea and a chat

with the various demons who have taken up residence

in her mind over the years

“give a man an inch and he’ll take a mile” she thinks to herself

{mentally translating the measurements into centimetres}

before picking up a book

and escaping for a while

into fantasies



Copyright June 2017


From Inside She Watches

from inside she watches

as the world plays on

feeling overwhelmed

by sky and clouds and the sun

and nearly eight billion people

all breathing the same air


from inside she watches

as the same patterns

repeat themselves over

cardboard cut outs of politicians

no longer pretending to govern

for more than self interest


from inside she watches

wonders how it will end

will we know when we reach

the tipping point when revolution

is the only answer or will we

die quietly as the stars go out


from inside she watches

the simple unfairness of being



Copyright June 2017



you can tread on a worm until it turns

but worms hide in the soil for lack of rain

and trickle down economics only works in reverse

leaving the worm at the mercy of the shovel


it’s all out of my control

somewhere along the line I must’ve agreed

{unless my yes was a forgery}

I don’t remember ordering this world

I suppose I could’ve done so inadvertently

ticking the box to put money ahead of compassion


the reality is that we see what we see

{like Pavlov’s dogs what we see is what we’re paid to see}


from somewhere near the bottom

{not in poverty just ignored}

I see anger turned without to hate

and it pains me to the bottom of my stomach


how can anyone be envious of someone

lower on the scale of fortune

why demonise people who fall apart

in a world where trust means money stored

and not a belief in the good of others


there’s a moment in the mornings

when I realise I’m still alive

in that flash of awareness

I must decide am I good or bad

or merely indifferent

and really, if I’m honest, what’s the point


even as I write I can hear another voice

shrilly screeching over the others

who cares what you think

you left leaning socialist bludger

I was dying and I still worked 15 jobs

here I am in heaven {a place you do not even believe in}

still working, helping with the screening process

and there you are living off others

how dare you utter an opinion


my voices, my friends since childhood

all gather together and tell her to shut the fuck up

she wouldn’t know heaven from her elbow

after designing hell – in a hand basket



Copyright May 2017