Posts Tagged ‘politics’

A song from the 1990s, by Buffy Sainte-Marie.

I thought… title, at least, appropriate.

BoJo the clown has come to town
his too-big flapping feet 
chipping the gilt off Downing Street.

Can’t manage this, can’t handle that;
bungling Foreign-Office diplomat.
None remember a word he’d say.
It was all lies, anyway.

Unmemorable face, shapeless suit;
hair, like his wit,
public school-boy cute.

– And where is Rees-Mog?
Lost in the fog
admiring his own
casuistry and pettifog.

Can’t reign-in ambition or mouth,
the goings and comings
of Dominic Cummings,
nor undisguised only concern
for England South.

‘Get Brexit done!’
then he really can have fun
punishing further the homeless,
the countless lives, 
his ambition has undone.

Pushing every button that comes along,
full-out for every grand-stand.
But he is only really a stand-in, 
until the real one comes along. 

Notes needed?

BoJo -English Prime Minister Boris Johnson.
Downing Street – official residence of P M.
Cute’ – not a word to use for a grown man.
Rees-Mog – Jacob Rees-Mog, top Tory Minister in PM’s Government. Often referred to as ‘the Minister representing the 19th Century’ i.e. ultra conservative.
Casuistry – Jesuitical practice. J Rees-Mog is an ardent Roman Catholic, with Jesuitical tendencies.
Pettifog – pettifogging, a tactic for wasting time in timed debates.
Dominic Cummings – kind of Svengali figure in BoJo’s top circle. Recently caught driving around when should have been self isolating, with Covid.
We are still waiting for the protections.

Trail’s End

Posted: November 10, 2020 in John Stammers Page
Tags: ,


Donald J Trump in a roadside bar
his cap sliding into his eyes,
nursing his drink like he’s film noir
‘I just can’t get an aide,’ he sighs
‘who’ll stay from round-up to trail’s-end.’
His tenth’s contract came to a sudden end.

The bar man shakes his head, ‘I hate 
to see any man so down on his luck.
All end up here, somehow.’ gives me a look,
then begins to relate… 
but Donald sat up, shook,
insomnia-red eyes glared around the room,
as he mumbled ju-ju into soda and lime

in a whiskey glass. 
Will he phone home? Will he sleep alone?
‘Looking for reporters, TV crew,’ 
the bar man says. ‘It’s what they all do
at the end of their time.’ 


Donald J Trump woke up in his trailer
struggled to put on his too-tight jacket,
grunted with shoes, zipped pants, in that order.
Looked up, straightened tie: ‘Still hack it!’
Checked pockets, sprayed hair, ‘They’ll see!’  
Hummed a voice check, ‘Here’s to me!’
chinking his glass, then downed in one;
rechecked the clock: Will this be the one?

Nearly time to hit the stage again, 
stood, belly in, ok, a little weight gain;
climbed step by step down the stairs
to stand in the wings. ‘Noisy tonight’.
He knew a few things to get them right,
tricks and faces, the names in his cross-hairs.
Then time: stepping out all constraint disappears 
as he puts on his Mickey Mouse ears.

The circus is in town again.

I Believe

Posted: June 25, 2016 in Chat
Tags: , ,

EU flag wallpaper in 1280x800 screen resolution

Would you rephrase the question?

Posted: September 29, 2011 in Chat
Tags: , ,

I got into one of those interminable discussions about the failings of political parties, today at work.

This was followed by a long delay in busing home, so had more time to think than was probably healthy for me.
When the bus did eventually arrive we were passing through a wealthy district to get to our shanties (what it felt like!) and a group of rich kids looked stunned as the bus went by, with actual people on board. Then the chant came: Bus Wankers! Bus Wankers!
Sheesh, some kids have just no idea, do they!

I wonder, do these kids ever wonder just where and how their present level of wealth came into being? Most probably some previous generation’s forefather worked himself into an early grave to provide well for his family, and family’s family. Excellent, if you are that sort of personality. It is worthwhile to look at the lives of these people, entrepeneurs, pioneers of a kind; at family lives, sacrifices, business toughness: to unwrap these phrases, and read what they mean in human terms. See them, not as ‘tycoons’, ‘millionaires’, but as versions of those kids we knew down the street. People.
Like politicians: those same kids down the street grown up. People; but people who for some reason feel they have a reason for doing what they are doing. It may look rather dodgy to the rest of us, but within the framework of politics it allows them a mobility perhaps nowhere else could.
That’s all good; what I am unsure about is whether that is sufficient cause for them to rule, in whatever fashion: to make decisions for us, and expect us to accept.
We vote for them, yes, but what options do we really have? Who would you Really vote for? I would bet they are not on that register of electees.

And I got to thinking. And what I thought was All our Political Parties seem to be letting us all down. All the time. What if what we are looking for is not a political solution. Politics, after all, just deals with everything in a political way. Not everything can be.
In fact, I would go as far as to say that at this moment, less of our lives is political, or should be a political issue, than it actually is. Health, Welfare, Education, Jobs should Not be political footballs.
Perhaps what we are looking for are social answers, that we need to redefine our lives, expectations, and realisable futures, through social commitment.

I don’t know where this is going, and I am very wary of it cos at my back I always here the whisper of ‘Danger! Danger! Ignore them at your peril! Turn away once and before you know it some extreme faction will be shoving everybody into holes, with hammers.’
Alas, it is probably so.
We have to keep an eye on our politicians, but without getting drawn in.