Back from the abyss, a collaborative performance poem. Words and reading by Harry Rogers in West Wales, Music by Ashley Cadell in Melbourne, Australia. Click here to listenContinue reading
Countdown To Carnival, fourth of July,
Jokers are wild, medics break down and cry,
City street parties now are so hot
Lockdown sacrifices gone and forgot
Sun shines on the beach, drunkards spew and fight
Pent up frustration raves on through the night.
Respect for security thinly stretched
Ochlocracy no longer seems far fetched
Oi, you there with the blond haystack hairstyle
Who claims to be a fit prime prime minister
Fit as a Butcher’s dog in such short while.
You and your clique are really sinister,
Fake power, no responsibility,
Your actions deny true ability.
Harry Rogers, In the Red Bedroom, 28th June 2020
Be careful that you
Don’t breathe in Blue Air,
Make sure you don’t go
Dancing toe to knee
You can’t be yourself
Life’s a pantomime
Looking behind you
Looking beyond you
Target on your back
You can’t know it’s there
Waiting behind you
When the knives are out,
And the lights go out…..
Harry Rogers, Past Midnight in the Yellow Room 26th June 2020
Sir K welcomes the Tory Lockdown thrust,
Uptick high street sales of discounted stuff,
Wetherspoon boozers must now make a crust.
People are ready to ingest this guff?
Union jack briefings just ain’t effective,
Mothball the lecterns, put experts away,
Leaders united, easing invective,
Not laws, just guidance, what more can they say?
From two to one, leave your name at the door,
Burger house cinemas open once more,
Not quite the same as it once was before,
Rife abnormality, stuck in our craw.
Next door they’re mowing, watch as swifts follow,
New bugs on the wind, so hard to swallow.
Harry Rogers, in the Red Bedroom, 24th June 2020.
That old ill wind now blows ever stronger,
Whilst the food bank queues grow even longer.
The furloughs and bailouts will all soon end,
But just like Viv we have to spend, spend, spend.
Look to the city, brokers do fiddle,
Watch as they play both ends against middle.
Someone just called for a giant hoover,
Covid, they said, is boomer remover.
Super superlatives fly from hip lips,
World beating software will solve our hardships
Privatised whiz kids on heightened day rates
Are new barbarians, there, at our gates.
Charging us fortunes for things that don’t work,
Ministers theive as they quietly smirk.
Harry Rogers, in The Red Bedroom, 23rd June 2020
Turn that old t-shirt into a face mask,
Get on train with The Beatles on your face,
Soon only a Dune Stillsuit fits the task,
Public transport now total smile free space,
Pubs get ready to open doors again,
Menus can be scanned onto your smartphone.
Without Android or Apple, well, what then?
No beers, no meals, carry on home alone?
Processed meat workers go down like ninepins,
Hairdressers ready to shear lock-down locks,
High street store windows sport clean mannequins,
Stock market braces for new fiscal shocks.
With secateurs and saw I start to prune,
Ain’t gonna be normal anytime soon!
Harry Rogers, In the Red Bedroom, 23rd June 2020.
An economic calamity comes
Said a radio presenter today,
Watch the Chancellor struggle with his sums,
Quantatively easing pipedreams away.
Rags and calumny fall from Tory lips,
False promises bring incredulity,
From home cooked meals to greasy fish and chips
The lock-down ends without human pity.
We must cram children back in classrooms small,
Labour Lords crawl out from obscurity,
The second wave now looms above us all,
No fiscal vaccine brings immunity.
Theatres are closed but tragedy plays on,
The tinted spectacles are almost gone.
Harry Rogers, In the red bedroom, Sunday 21st June 2020.
From alert level four
To alert level three
Now we start panicking
Let’s reopen the schools,
The pubs and restaurants,
People meet in bubbles,
Wear masks upon the bus,
Stay home and watch football,
All one metre away,
We scrap the test and trace,
Soon we’ll have the finest,
Test and trace in the world,
Expect teachers to teach,
Only those who turn up,
Can’t go down to the beach.
Us fogeys, locked away,
We don’t know what to say,
So we fill bird feeders,
The woodpeckers need nuts.
Soon all do what they like,
We wait for second spike,
Or the permanent spike.
In the nineteen sixties
Janis succinctly said,
“It’s all the same fucking day man!”
She was not too far wrong.
Harry Rogers, 2.00am In the Yellow Room, June 20th 2020
Somebody has to do it,
You know? Red, white & blue it,
We watch as Johnson blew it,
Whilst, mostly, we go through it,
The Tim Tam suck, don’t chew it,
Union Jack jet? Who flew it?
Globally we outgrew it.
Murdoch’s chums will review it,
Donald tries to outdo it,
Pandemic? Oh, just screw it.
They told us they would do it,
Now lockdown’s dead, eschew it,
Still, we all fucking knew it,
Austerity? Renew it.
Harry Rogers, in the Red Bedroom, Thursday 18th June 2020.Continue reading
The dogs of demagoguery
Run rampant on the streets
Defend statues of butchery
And working class defeats
Built palaces on stolen land
Given to the gentry
Whilst priests do up in pulpits stand
Supporting no entry
Meanwhile all across Africa
Where once tribes owned the land
Slavers shipped to America
With bibles in their hand.
Fear gas used in ninety eight towns
To scare off protesters
It’s theatre for orange skinned clowns
Whilst racism festers.
Fox News would have us all believe
Trump wins in November
Whilst he pulls fake tweets from his sleeve
All now will remember
The whole wide world is in danger,
We have been here before,
Cenotaph goons look no stranger
Heiling Hitler’s lost war.
I can’t take it much more…..
Harry Rogers, in the Yellow room, Pencnwcau, June 17th 2020.Continue reading