Nobody Wants to Work

Forced return to office

Unreliable public transport

Commuter traffic

Killer distances

Tons of duties

Hardly any benefits

Experience needed

Sending applications

Unresponsive recruiters

Internal hires

Throwing into the void

Serving a system of slavery

The Modern Medieval Age

Serfdom.

Tied to the land.

Cannot move away.

Once bound by law.

Now bound by pay.

The king's forests.

Reserved for recreation.

Closed to commoners.

A role replaced,

By country clubs today.

The church.

Propaganda of the state.

Telling the people

Who to serve,

And who to hate.

Taken to an extreme,

By media mainstream.

Feudalism,

Paying tribute,

To lords of the manor.

Now landlords and executives.

The clock turned back,

To a modern medieval age.

Farewell to the Blue Bird

Farewell to the Blue Bird.

sorry about your nest.

To find a new platform,

is next year's quest.

Hashtag games were great,

Scenes we'd like to see,

wordplay,

other things I sought.

Especially at the office.

It's a lot more fun,

if you don't get caught.

Met plenty of writers,

Took part in great chats,

and it was fun to meet

The authors' cats.

Then came the Muskrat,

the billionaire twat,

with constant demanding

of the "X" rebranding.

He wants me to pay for it?

I ain't giving him shit.

Who saw my post?

Just a bunch of spam bots,

and the occasional chat host.

Nazi bans revoked,

and hate speech stoked.

I've grabbed my coat,

jumping this sinking boat.

I might be back,

if the nest changes hands.

Titan, Shanksgiving,

maybe we'll get lucky,

With the next hullabaloo.

Until then, I'll see you,

on the place where

the skies are blue.

The Society of All Work and No Play

"Work hard. Do your best."

"Earn some Brownie Points."

"Sincerely Loved And Valued Employee."

Schools condition it.

Managers demand it.

Prices enforce it.

It's all a lie.

Victorian values.

Long dead, but exhumed.

Still rotting.

They say that "Laziness is a sin."

They can get in the fuckin' bin.

It's a society of all work and no play.

To preserve the masters' wealth,

we must sacrifice our health.

I'll contribute to that.

The rag's in the bottle.

Pass the lighter.

A Troubled Brow

A day of celebration, 

to mark a coronation.

When many face desperation,

It's a cause of consternation.

Burdened by the cost,

of a gift we never asked for,

To elevate a patriarch.

A family rotten to the core.

Food banks are closed,

Users have to wait.

While an inbred toff blocks,

Separating church and state.

A time for the royals,

to rejoice and ensconce.

But be careful;

One of them's a nonce.

Time to clean house.

Scrap this archaic institution.

Replace it with a more,

democratic constitution.

The future monarchy

Should be confined,

To fiction and fantasy.

To Be a Brick

My dying wish.

Is to become a brick.

I know, it sounds weird,

Perhaps even sick.

But I want my ashes mixed,

Into a brick.

Engrave it with a message

Insightful stories:

"This is Skeff, he says

'Fuck the Tories'".

I could be part of place,

that I hold dear.

Somewhere that loans books

Or is selling beer.

Maybe one journey.

How about London?

Pay a visit to 10 Downing,

Or 55 Tufton.

Their front rooms look nice.

Better than this locker.

Society's a Prison

Society's a prison,

Run for profit.

In which we're born,

Without permission.

It breaks your back.

Bleeds you dry.

Paying bills,

Until you die.

School is conditioning,

Gears for the machine.

Using mark schemes,

To kill your dreams.

Ready to work,

In the machine.

Up at dawn.

Enough coffee,

To endure the drive.

Making a fifty.

Earning a five.

Want to make art?

Enjoy life?

Tough shit.

No time for that.

In the machine.

Want to work less?

They'll raise your bills.

Living in fear,

Of losing it all.

Want to take, not toil?

The masters do.

And not  want you to.

Try it anyway,

Go to prison.

What's the difference?

Society's a prison.

The Fallacies of Sleep

I'm a night owl

In an early bird society

School days

Time to get up

Crack of dawn

Gotta catch a bus

Get to school

I'm tired

I can't think straight

The teacher doesn't give a toss

"Go to bed earlier"

Should have stayed in bed

Go home

Bedtime

Can't doze off

Lie in bed

Stare at the ceiling

It's the weekend

Lie in bed

Checks the time

7:00 am? Fuck!

Can't doze off

Now what

Get a job

Same old shit

Now with coffee

Need to be up

Still can't sleep

Think about things

I won't write down

Clocks go forward

That shit's the worst

First Monday,

"Oscar Day"

For the slapping urge

Lost in the Woods

The palm reader takes my hand
I see a man lost in the woods,

With no faith in the future,

Who feels persecuted by fate.

Little to look forward to,

And little to lose.

A man who drifts,

Like a leaf, on the wind.

Where the wind will take you,

I cannot say.

I see a man lost in the woods.

Who prefers it that way.

The Lumberjack's Axe

Head of steel
Body of wood
King of the forest

Fells the trees
Who pledge loyalty
A body of wood
Doesn't make a tree

The trees see
A body of wood
They support
They submit

To the King of the Forest
A royal puppet
To the hand
Which profits

The Tantalean Fate

Exam season, study all day

Get them over with.
Spend the time online.
Router dies.

The fruits of the tree,

Moved out of reach.

18th birthday, new PC.

Get the new games.

More exams on the way.

Need to revise.

Despite it being Christmas break.

Get them done, Time to play.

Video driver breaks.

The pool receded,

Before I could drink.

Summer's on the way.

Time to celebrate,

Before we all part ways.

Next step starts too soon.

No chance of summer holiday.

The fruits of the tree,

Moved out of reach.

Six years pass.

Go to university.

Enjoy life for once.

Parties and socials.

Taken away,

By a viral outbreak.

The pool receded,

Before I could drink

What is happening?

Is this punishment?

Like that of Tantalus?

The fruits of the tree,

Moved out of reach,

The pool receded,

Before I could drink.

I didn't eat anybody.

End of an Era

Assignments done.

Finished with uni

Waiting the degree.

Time to kick back

Time to party,

But there's nobody.

Pubs are shut,

Classmates remote,

Tired of Zoom.

A virtual social

No takers.

Just a cheeky Domino's,

And a bottle of wine

To drown my sorrows.

Pubs re-opened.

Seeing photos.

Getting FOMO.

Is this it?

Three years,

And no farewell?

What next?

In My Own Words

Lazy cynic,
Misanthropic,
Hedonistic,
and Neurotic,

Neutral Chaotic,
Rebellious frantic,
Hopeless romantic,
Slightly pedantic.

Imprisoned

Trapped in eternal cycle
Taxes, rent, bills
Not even food

No escape
No break
No hope

Demands of others
All the time
Work is prison

(Image credit to William Hogarth)

Lockdown Easter

Easter Sunday
During Plague
Just a day.

Time is vague
Working at home
Not The Hague

My mind will roam
More creative ideas
Enough to fill a tome

I'll sink back a few beers
Folks on the Wagon
For months or maybe years

Maybe I'll slay a dragon
I thirst for another flagon

Quarantine

Back at The Shire
Hiding from the Plague

Projects are due
Not for a while
Video gaming
Retro style

Nothing much to do
Role-play on Discord
Pickle myself
For the great beyond

Folks are on the wagon
Dryer than a powder horn
None of that bollocks
I'll honour Bacchus

Sinking Back

I was a junkie
Five years clean
Then, relapse
Old addictions
Need my fix
Every Day
Can't get it,
Withdrawal
Cold Turkey

It's vicious,
Candy Crush

Covid! Oh Covid!

Covid! Oh Covid!
I hate you! You prick!
2020 can suck my well-beaten dick.
If only I could
Have pub trips or parties.
Covid! Oh Covid!
My world you did seize.

Done little but eat,
Drink lots, game and sleep,
Curse the hypocrisy
Of the clapping sheep,
Arrange virtual events
That don't go ahead.
I feel invisible,
Just tweeting in bed.

Covid! Oh Covid!
You're on my shit list.
You'll regret the day,
That you chose to exist.
If this vaccine would work.
And this year won't stick
Covid! Oh Covid!
I hate you! You prick!

(Special thanks to Jack Prelutsky)

The 2010s

Stress of revision
A Levels and GCSEs
Eton posh boys
Hiking up tuition fees
The Mayans claimed
The would would end
A weight off my mind
Forced to grow up
By a cabal of sadists
Those exams meant nothing
Apprenticeships that pay pennies
Unreliable, overpriced public transport
Makes cars mandatory
Work is far away
And what is work?
Making someone else rich
Slavery by another name
I want to make art
But that doesn't pay
So I needed a job
Jobs get in the way
Houses are costly
Even to rent

So, in the 2020s
Fuck the establishment.

Strict Form or Free Verse?

Should my work be strict form or free?

Strict form; gives me guidelines.
Free verse; more emotion for me,
Without strict form's confines.

With free verse,
The emotion flows.
But it isn't always free.
It can drift,
into strict form.

So I prefer strict form,
I know what to work with
But emotion's lukewarm

I'll say it herewith;
I'm a wordsmith.

My strict form should be free
Yet my free form is too strict.
Why not both?
Signing off the month

Farewell,
Au revoir
Arrivederci
Adios

But I hate to say goodbye
So I'll say Auf Wiedersehen.

30 poems for 30 days
Maybe I'll try again next year.