As soon as I stop starting
I know that I don’t belong,
Won’t write another poem,
Never write another song.

Put my pencil on the pad,
Shake ink droplets from my pen,
Caress my keyboard, slowly,
Here comes if and but and when.

Seems like all I have to do,
To get the magic going,
Is to write the first words down,
Then my juices start flowing.

But if I prevaricate,
Leave cap screwed on my ink pot,
There’ll be nothing in future
To make folks forget me not.

Harry Rogers, in the Red Bedroom,
24th July 2022

How ghastly this situation,
With liars in domination,
Their poison splashed across the truth,
Hardwired with manufactured proof.
Honesty trampled in the dust,
Integrity blown, shit or bust,
Ignore overarching danger,
Main thing? Keep control of manger.
Forde report confirms all our fears,
We laboured in vain through those years.
No comfort now in told you so,
No point to call for time to go.
That well? Defiled for evermore,
Tainted, spoiled, by Randian war.
Roaring silence clatters eardrums,
Something more wicked this way comes,
Ignored, it will not fade away,
Beware, new dogma has its day.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom, 24th July 2022