It is still two minutes to midnight

there’s riots here, fires there
protests in the east, suppression in the west
annexation in the north, secession in the south,

pointing fingers, sure that if they ruled,
if they had the power, if they had the keys
the right seat at the high table,

there will be enough – no, more than enough
this time, they say, the earth will sprout green
& the sky will bring rain in due season,

it is still two minutes to midnight.

How I left London

it wasn’t until
my sixth pizza
of the week
did i realise
i wasn’t happy.
and then –
my bike, my love
got nicked & i stood there
outside the station
with my sawn lock
and thought
fuck,
fuck this place,
i want out,
and i said
“God, help a brother out”
and so,
my boss, the prick
fired me the next week.

Silver Anniversary

Eventually, my military drilled
boarding school stationed
karate black belt dad
gave up on moving mum’s heels
from the living room, scarf from the sofa
flats in the kitchen, earrings by the china
getting there on time…

and she too has ignored
his bullet proof snores, CNN & caffeine addiction
phlegymy wake up coughs
toothpick picking, salted peanuts snacking
talking to strangers when she wants to go home timing

and they clink their non-alcoholic glasses
to another fifty years of acceptance.