Poetry

Unjustified Means, Unjustified Ends – a Poem by The Sixty Second Scribe

Unjustified Means, Unjustified Ends 
The MPs were prepared to support him
Because he said he could get them elected
His lack of integrity, his compulsive lies
Nothing mattered because 
He was going to get them elected 
The party were prepared to support him
Because he said he could get them elected
The lack of shame, the lack of remorse
Nothing mattered because
He was going to get them elected 
The MPs accepted that he broke every pledge
Because he said he could get them elected
Betrayals of trust, betrayals of principles
Nothing mattered because 
He was going to get them elected 
The party accepted that he expelled all the socialists
Because he said he could get them elected
Smears and accusations, reputations ruined 
Nothing mattered because 
He was going to get them elected 
And the electorate looked 
from tory to labour, and from labour to tory
And from tory to labour again, 
but already it was impossible 
To say which was which.
But nothing mattered because
He was going to get them elected

Halloween is Cancelled – Sad to Say it’s True

Halloween is Cancelled - Poem 
Halloween is cancelled
Sad to say it’s true 
But let’s review the reasons why
It’s what we’ve had to do
We can’t play apple bobbing
Or related fruit based tortures
There’s no one here to pick them
So they’re rotting in the orchards 
And wearing scary make up
In whose horrors you could bask
Isn’t so effective 
When you have to add your mask 
We can’t go trick or treating
Round our tired disheveled streets
The increase in inflation means
We can’t afford the treats 
So how about a simple step
An interim reprieve
That might just make things better
When it’s next All Hallows’ Eve
I know just what I’d like to do
To polish up my armour 
I’d think it quite a treat to go
And deselect Kier Starmer.
And then I’d get my Kirk mask
And drive to number ten 
And go all Michael Myers
On our unworthy pm

Let’s Start Again – a Poem by the Sixty Second Scribe

Let’s start again - a poem by the sixty second scribe 
And so a Coronation
For the man to lead our nation
He’s selected, not elected 
And so mandate he has none. 
Two hundred and nineteen voices spoke
A vile and unrepresentative joke
It’s proof that our democracy is broke
And so mandate he has none 
And were the members to be polled
Sunak wouldn’t have taken gold
They had to make the others fold
And so mandate he has none 
But before Sunak can do his thing
He has to go and meet the king 
He’s inherited, not elected
And so mandate he has none.  
It’s time - the mountain must be scaled
Tear it all down - it’s sadly failed
Till a worthy constitution’s unveiled 
And democracy has begun

Decaying Ever, Ever On – a Poem by The Sixty Second Scribe

Decaying ever, ever on - a poem by the sixty second scribe 
The pm claims integrity
Then appoints the one who’d happily
See refugees drown out at sea 
And our decay goes ever, ever on 
Sacked just days ago for breaks
To ministerial code, he shakes
his head, defends, ignores the stakes
And our decay goes ever, ever on 
One who dreams of deportation
Shames this once proud welcoming nation 
Stoking national stagnation 
And our decay goes ever, ever on
Claims that lessons have been learnt
Clearly lies - more bridges burnt
Positions bought but never earned
And our decay goes ever, ever on
That he lied’s already clear
Which marks him out as Johnson’s peer
And leaves an atmosphere of fear
As our decay goes ever, ever on

Idiot Destroyers of Progress

interior design of a courtroom 
UK’s reputation plummets
Overriding the ECHR
And the world can see that we are 
Truly idiot destroyers of progress
Standing alone at the summit 
This peak of moronic intent 
Morals and integrity spent
Where we go next is anyone’s guess
Then just when it appeared to be
That our madness could not be trumped
The states think they might have us stumped 
Our lead may not be unassailable
The Supreme Court in the ‘land of the free’  
Overturns Roe v Wade and shows
They’re back in front, albeit by a nose 
And they have more inhumanity available

Solstician Kryptonite – a song for midsummer

close up photo of bat

I was asked to write something about the solstice for an appearance yesterday at the Buckingham Literary Festival, and while I don’t have video of the performance, I thought I’d share the lyrics, as they made me chuckle when I was putting it together. We just don’t think of others enough when we carry out our rituals!

What is it, with you people and your sunlight?
What is it, makes you start to act like loons?
What is it, makes you get all weird and worshipy?
Each year around the 21st of June 
The longest day? Well let me tell you something.
This solstice fetish drives me outa my mind
You’d hate this daylight mania 
If you were born in Transylvania
So stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine 
Yes the solstice to a vampire’s
Like green kryptonite to superman
Like hairdressers to Samson 
Salt to slugs
Like nuts to those with allergies
Like sharks to those who surf
Like moths to haute coutore
Spiders to bugs
What is it, with you people and your monuments?
Why is it, that they’re lined up with the sun?
What is it, makes you gather at the sunrise?
Each year, when all the longer nights are done?
The longest day? Well let me tell you something.
This solstice fetish drives me outa my mind
Though I’m sure you’d find it hard to,
Spare a thought for Nosferatu
And stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine
Yes the solstice to a vampire’s 
Like red wine to brand new carpet
Like erections at the doctors
Jokes to wakes
Like drunk girls to karaoke
Like drunk boys to, well anything
Like rust to aging boats
Pirhanas to lakes
What is it, with you people and your rituals?
What is it, makes you start to act all strange?
What is it, makes you dance and sing and copulate?
In ways that seem increasingly deranged?
The longest day? Well let me tell you something.
This solstice fetish drives me outa my mind
At your midsummer spectaculars
Spare a thought for dear old Dracula 
And stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine
Yes the solstice to a vampire’s 
Like a virus to a laptop
Like silver bullets to a werewolf
Mould to bread
Like acne to a teenager
Like slugs to finest lettuce
Like cheetahs to gazelles
Guillotiné to head
The longest day? Well let me tell you something.
This solstice fetish drives me outa my mind
Save my kind from all this dread
Spare a thought for the undead
And stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine
Yes, stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine

Scribal Gathering Showcase – 7th June 2022

The Sixty Second Scribe (and current Bard of Stony Stratford) is a special guest at the Scribal Gathering Showcase at The Crown in Stony Stratford, on the 7th June 2022 as part of StonyLive! A 20 minute set of mainly new material, beautifully filmed by Ian Newman, hosted by Jonathan JT Taylor and with sound by Duncan Carter.

22 – This Feline Has Ceased To Be

kitten lying on surface

The Sixty Second Scribe takes a look at the latest dead cat to be thrown on the dinner table, and while he recognises it for just what it is, he also considers that it might just serve a purpose. It’s difficult to say for sure, but even the supine nature of the British public must have a limit somewhere. Surely?

For more literary tiers poems, click here

You (yes you!) can buy books of my poetry from this very site.

14 – The Sound of the Crowd

clear glass mason jars

The Sixty Second Scribe talks of hope, inspiration, beards and jam making while referencing a Human League song, for reasons that pretty much nobody will understand, but that make him smile. I have a sneaking feeling that will be the only time someone references those four things in a single sentence today, although I guess stranger things have happened. Anyway – this is The Sound of the Crowd.

For more from this series, go here