Things would be so much calmer
If we never had Kier Starmer,
Nor those goons at Panorama,
Yup, life would be a Brahma.
But that ain’t gonna happen,
He’ll make a pledge, break a pledge,
Surround himself with liars,
Push good comrades off the edge,
Set light to socialist pyres.
Announce another relaunch,
Build new castles in blue sky,
Welcome back traitors who flaunt
Their facility to lie.
Trot out in desperation
From all our televisions
Shout loud across t’nation,
He’s got these five new missions.
Emboldened by online polls,
He dreams of future landslide,
His army of Twitter trolls,
Commit Corbyn homicide.
He’s no media charmer,
An idiot in armour,
Yeah, life would be a Brahma,
If we never had Kier Starmer!

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom 27th February 2023.

Ten years ago my good friend Marc Gordon and I were doing performance poetry gigs as The Chilly Dogz. We got paid to do a gig in Merthyr Tydfil and with the fee we booked a day at Studio 49 in Narberth, Pembrokeshire, on 14th February 2013 where we recorded an album of love songs called Ripples In The Water. Here are those songs in MP3 format.

All remember Nagasaki
Never forget Hiroshima
Now we stand and cry together
On the beach at Fukushima
This is where we meet our Nuclear nemesis
The fuel companies are lying
Political leaders are lying
Certain scientists are lying
Just keep right on lying
Chernobyl partly melted down
It killed a million people
Fukushima is much more
Deadly for the Japanese
But that’s not where it ends
It’s only the beginning
Pollution in the atmosphere
The Pacific ecosystem
Is well and truly fucked
Mutant mammals birds and fishes
Turn up all around the globe
We’re irradiated, we don’t EVEN know
All remember Nagasaki
Never forget Hiroshima
Now we’re standing together
On the beach at Fukushima
We’re all in it together
On the beach at Fukushima

Harry Rogers in the old study 4th October 2012

I feel a presence as I clean my shoes,
Alone, yet watched, I am not on my own.
On my radio I hear dreadful news,
Rwanda bound refugees plane now flown.
Such immorality, beyond compare,
Easily forced on already war torn,
Herded airborne cattle into despair,
There to wonder why they were ever born.
Earnestly politicians justify
Their sad actions with fake humility.
The more I listen the sooner I cry,
As terror fills the space beyond pity.
A beak taps window, I look up from shoes,
Brown thrush blinks at me, free to fly, to choose.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom, 14th June 2022.

A syndrome has run rife through New Labour,
Love for a centrist TINA hijacker
Who has painted them into a corner
Where he injects bile against left comrades,
Into veins of all loyal supporters.
With his vapid anti strike rhetoric,
Top down control of what to think and say,
With four precise folded butcher’s aprons
Now time to plunge daggers further into
Space between shoulder blades of last leader.
Sycophantic journalists cream their ink,
Lies flow steadily across Rubicon.
When they lie they make sure it’s a big one,
Tell It over and over until it’s true……

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom 20th February 2023

Scrutiny swirls hard around poor claimants,
Until you become totally homeless.
It’s at that focal point of penury,
When helpless victims lose everything
That society turns its gaze away.
Safety nets rendered useless by tax cuts,
Sink holes swallow up young and old alike.
Beneath our feet John Lennon’s hell exists,
Behind Chinese walls of scorn and disgust,
Beyond all bourgeois imagination,
Forgotten children commit suicide
To escape spirals of desperation.
Tragedy is hard wired into us all,
Some people can live with this, others can’t.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom 19th February 2023

Guillotines, Guns, & Gas
Donald, on his way back,
Injections not enough,
He needs to make things rough.
Death by all means he calls,
Line groups up against walls,
Film each one as they fall,
Fear will conquer us all.
Phone up DOA bugs,
Grass purveyors of drugs,
MAGA on fire again,
Donald’s back on his plane.
We’ve seen it all before,
During second world war,
Public executions,
Soon became commonplace.
Recall Edelweiss League,
Pirates and Navajos,
Hung by necks in a row,
Darkest days in Cologne.
This ogre with small hands
Sings on blood soaked bandstands,
Soon we’ll witness live pain,
Donald Trump’s back, again.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom
18th February 2023

I drive at dawn
Black against blue
I’m nearly home
Black against blue
Crows against sky
Black against blue
Murder on high
Black against blue
I watch them fly
Black against blue
Stark in sunlight
Black against blue
I’ve missed ravens
Black against blue
Conspiracy
Black against blue
Huddle of rooks
Black against blue
Parliament
Black against blue
Black Jac-y-do
Black against blue
Clattering train
Black against blue
Magpie mischief
Black against blue
Conventicle
Black against blue
No place like home
Black against blue
Teifi Valley
Black against blue

Harry Rogers, in the Red Bedroom 16th February 2023.

Now, at last, we see it, unvarnished truth.
Not truth based on freedom and built through hope,
But a complete flowering of naked
Unadulterated, revelation.
We see equality equated with
Patriotism, two omnipresent
Union jacks furled on left and right sides
Of a grinning Quisling extraordinaire,
As he punches home final coffin nails.
Death to democratic socialism,
Goodbye to all political freedom,
Farewell to honesty, integrity,
It’s all over, Socialists shown the door,
I’ll never vote Labour for evermore.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom 16th February 2023.

We spend our whole lives searching out
Reasons why and what it’s all about
Priests and teachers offer choices wide
But hardly ever do we take a look inside
When we were babies we tasted anything
Hot or cold we picked up every single thing
Tested out the world and all that was new
Somehow along the way we forget what to do
We let other people show us their way
Sometimes listen to what they got to say
Occasionally it’s more than just show
We put it on the pile with the other things we know

But when you meet your maker
You won’t know what to do
‘Cos when you meet your maker
You’ll find out it is you

We let politicians show us their way
Sometimes listen to what they got to say
Once in a while it’s more than just show
Put it on that pile with those other things we know

But when you meet your maker
You won’t know what to do
‘Cos when you meet your maker
You’ll find out it is you

We are what we do
We are what we do
Yeah when you meet your maker
You’ll find out it is you.

Harry Rogers In the old study, 2011. (Archived lyric)

Keep your head down, avoid all bright lights.
Don’t admit responsibility,
Ignore thousands of hearts upon walls,
Push away those years Before Covid,
When families were wholly normal.
Pump post pandemic propaganda,
Exude After Disruption credence,
Despite six hundred deaths every week,
Increases in hospital admissions,
A clapped out health service on it’s knees,
Despite all this continue to lie.
Stonewall all questions that might hurt you,
Continue to drag out enquiry,
De-prioritise reality,
Concentrate on deflection of truth,
Rise without trace to top of the tree.
Continually offer something
Undeliverable dressed as new.
Convince people that crumbs from tables
Will keep them well away from breadlines.
Keep scandal powder dry until just
Before next general election.
Resort to old war footing tactics,
Scare us totally fucking shitless.
Flood our lives with patriotism,
Manufacture more ammunition,
Rattle sabres louder every day.
Crown a new king to lead us all on,
What next? Aliens block internet?

Harry Rogers, In the melon sorbet room, 15th February 2023.

Some days I feel
I am not quite
Over that hill
Not quite over

Others I rush
Over edges
Slide way on down
Over that hill

Slippery slopes
On my way down
I watch myself
Slip slip away

Still not under
Under that hill
I’m not under
Under that hill

I take my pills
Every morning
And night time too
I’m a good boy

Up hill down dale
One more real ale
Today I am
Close to that edge

Edge of that hill
Ground slides away
I’m not over
Over that hill

Neither am I
Under that hill
Not yet under
That hill, not yet

Harry Rogers, Edwinstowe, 12th February 2023.

LEAVE ME BE.

She was coming on – – -Really strong
Just like a red rag – – -It was wrong
Her jiving was driving me crazy
My memory’s a little bit hazy
If I was still a younger geezer
I’d take a chance with this little teaser
Just like Monroe did to Gable
She laid it all out on the table
I looked at her and said – – – Get outa here
I turned my back – – – Picked up my beer
(chorus)
Leave me be
Leave me be
Please, Please, Please
Leave me be
She was coming on – – -Really Full
Just like a red rag – – -To a bull
We would’ve had a lotta fun
Back then my engine would run and run
Her jiving was driving me crazy
My memory’s a little bit hazy
Just like Monroe did to Gable
She laid it all out on the table
I looked at her and said – – – Get outa here
I turned my back – – – Picked up my beer
(chorus)
Now I always say
Leave me here
With my beer
Leave me be
Please, Please, Please
Just leave me be

Harry Rogers in the old study, Aberbanc, 30th July 2011

SOMETIMES LOVE THROWS YOU A CURVE BALL
YOU WON’T KNOW HOW TO FEND IT
THAT CURVE BALL CAN BREAK YOUR HEART
IT WILL BE SO HARD TO MEND IT
BUT ONE TIME THERE WILL BE A DAY WHEN
YOU SEE THAT CURVE BALL COMING
WHEN YOU’LL HIT IT WITH YOUR SWEET SPOT
AND SEND IT SKYWARDS HUMMING
WHEN YOU FIND YOUR SWEET SPOT
AHHH THAT SWEET SWEET SPOT
YOU’LL SEND THAT CURVE BALL
FROM WHERE YOUR LOVE BURNS HOT
WHERE IT’S BURNING BURNING BURNING
BURNING UP ABOVE
YOU’LL HIT THAT CURVE BALL
WITH THE SWEET SPOT OF YOUR LOVE
SO STEP UP TO THE PLATE
TAKE A SWING AT LOVE
AND IF YOU GET A CURVE BALL
HIT IT WITH YOUR SWEET SPOT
YOU MIGHT FIND YOUR SWEET SPOT
BEFORE IT GETS TOO LATE
YOU CAN HIT THAT CURVE BALL
WITH THE SWEET SPOT OF YOUR LOVE
ONCE YOU HIT THAT CURVE BALL
IT WON’T SEEM SO TANTALISING
SOON YOU’LL HIT THAT CURVE BALL
WITHOUT EVEN REALISING
HIT THAT GODDAM CURVE BALL
WITH THE SWEET SPOT OF YOUR LOVE

Harry Rogers in the old study, October 2011

She’s got a lot more front than Brighton beach,
She gives off odour of a stalking horse,
Disrupts like Trump with hammer to a peach,
A false flag for BoJos return of course.

This murder of crows will not go away,
Sociopaths sing same growth growth growth song,
Determined return to make us all pay,
Never accept they’ve done anything wrong.

Another run round media circus,
Roll up their sleeves for next fix of power,
Care not whether their actions will hurt us,
They’ll poison Westminster wells hour by hour.

Regurgitate mantras from benches back,
Privatise services, cut income tax.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom 6th February 2023

That day we heard what you said
Sounds fine and dandy
Your words echo in our heads
Sounds fine and dandy
People took you at your word
So fine and dandy
Vote for what we thought we heard
Sounds fine and dandy

Then we all saw what you did,
Not fine, nor dandy,
How in hell you kept that hid,
Not fine, nor dandy
You ask us to trust in you,
Not fine, not dandy
After that we can’t trust you,
Not fine, nor dandy.

We want our leaders
To walk it like they talk it
We need our leaders
To walk it like they talk it
Not like you just did
Threw your promises away,
We cannot trust you
To walk it like you talk it.

Pledge after pledge after pledge,
Thrown beneath your bus
You trashed your former comrades
Shat all over us
Denigrated picket lines
Not fine nor dandy
We’ll never, ever, trust you
Not fine, nor dandy.

It’s what you do
Not what you say
It’s what you did
Not what you said
We will never
Trust a traitor
Nor will ever
Vote for traitors.

Harry Rogers, In the melon sorbet room, Sunday 5th February 2023

I took a look inside
Your real cool heart
It’s just not nice inside
Your real cool heart
There’s a block of ice inside
Your real cool heart
Gripped me like a vice inside
Your real cool heart
For more than forty four years
You were a friend of mine
When young shared our drugs
Our women and our wine
Lately something I noticed
Your heart beats real cool
You treat everybody
Like your very own fool
I took a look inside
Your real cool heart
It’s just not nice inside
Your real cool heart
There’s a block of ice inside
Your real cool heart
Gripped me like a vice inside
Your real cool heart
You set yourself up
As the arbiter of taste
Ah but when you look
Your whole life’s been a waste
But nobody out there
Would say it to your face
‘Cause you think you’re better
Than the whole human race
I took a look inside
Your real cool heart
It’s just not nice inside
Your real cool heart
There’s a block of ice inside
Your real cool heart
Gripped me like a vice inside
Your real cool heart
Another weird thing I’ve noticed
It’s not an endearing feature
You never pour the tea for others
You‘re the most indolent creature
Everybody thought you were so cool
They have done right from the start
Beatnik poses when you were at school
Were hiding up your real cool heart
I won’t look twice inside
Your real cool heart
It’s just not nice inside
Your real cool heart
There’s a block of ice inside
Your real cool heart
Gripped me like a vice inside
Your real cool heart
It’s been like that from the very start
Go away with your real cool heart

Harry Rogers in the old study, Aberbanc, 2012.

She is sitting on a stool at The Purple Pussycat
Sipping a highball from a Coca Cola bottle
She’s wearing a white raincoat and stilettos
That’s all, just a white raincoat and stilettos
On the stairs outside there’s an argument
Between the doorman and two right villains
Next thing one geezer with a shooter comes
Through the door, robs the till, shoots the mirror
Behind the bar and runs off laughing hyena like
Me and her still sit on the corner of the counter
Clutching tightly our illegal highballls in our hands
She looks bewildered in her
White raincoat and stilettos
Totally stunning in her
White raincoat and stilettos
Nothing else, just her
White raincoat and stilettos
Outside on Gérard Street on this very early
Sunday morning warm July rain is teeming
From next door’s basement comes the noise
Of late  night Chinese poker players screaming
Our barman sweeps up broken shards of glass
She asks whether he’s got any purple hearts
I slide a small brown paper envelope across
The silver flecked black Formica counter top
She tips two blue triangle tablets in her palm
Chugs them with lukewarm scotch and coke
I watch her quivering in her
White raincoat and stilettos
Shaking like a leaf in her
White raincoat and stilettos
Nothing else, just her
White raincoat and stilettos
She turns to me and says she’s kinda worried
Says she has to tell someone what’s happened
She’s just finished working an American John
He fell off to sleep as soon as the job was done
His stacked wallet lay open at the bottom of the bed
Saw five thousand dollars, it went straight to her head
She slipped on her white raincoat and stiletto shoes
Grabbed the money from the wallet, ran to the Pussycat
God she’s so excited, never seen so much cash before
I’m feeling slightly blocked as she shows me her score
She looks triumphant in her
White raincoat and stilettos
So super lively in her
White raincoat and stilettos
Nothing else, just her
White raincoat and stilettos

Harry Rogers, in the old study some time in 2015.

Someone dumped a car battery in our duck pond,
Along with fourteen cans of congealed enamel paint,
Two hundred bent rusty nails, a broken tool belt,
A mildewed collection of Ty beanie babies,
Two mauve plastic Adirondack style broken chairs,
And five large black bin bags filled with chicken giblets.
A month later everyone from twenty miles round
Has added their waste to this gigantic mountain.
Ducks have flown, people groan, stench is blown, herons moan.
Local council used to do all waste disposal,
They’d take everything, dump it out of view,
Life was so much more aesthetically pleasing,
Pre compulsory competitive tendering.
Thatcher’s privatisation fucked everything up,
Britain has become a paradise island
For fly by night, mafia, white van man, shitbags.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom, 2nd February, 2023

Androids turning us on

Now all the jobs are gone

Robots dancing the pole

To Android rock and roll

Automatons hang out

Holograms twist and shout

Human redundancy

Goodbye to you and me

Because the

Pole dancing robots are here

Yeah the pole dancing robots are here

Mechanic smiling toys

Motorised girls and boys

Dance with Simulacrum

Beat on electric drum

Resurrect vinyl Mum,

The end has almost come.

Harry Rogers, Harriboy’s Hut,14th February 2017.

Bait up the trotline,

Stretched across the sands,

Bucket field mushrooms,

Seasalter crop,

Grandfather’s breakfast,

Another early fifties holiday.

On the never ending beach

My brother pats one more castle,

I coax crabs from under rocks.

Mum watches her new boyfriend,

Do handstands on breakwater.

And you?

Dad?

You ignore us all,

As usual.

Harriboy’s Hut, Aberbanc: 5th November 2016

Slips on his Cross of St George Undies,
Resists urge to scratch new facial tattoo,
Laces up his old steel toecap boots,
Takes black Harrington off hallway hook,
Doesn’t give washing up a second look,
This most ancient throwback bovver boy,
Ignorant and forever angry,
Is off to local rubber-dub-dub
To baaa baaa with his flock of white sheep,
Once a skinhead always a skinhead,
He is Millwall and no-one likes him,
And he proudly says he doesn’t care.
Drives off on his vintage chromed Lambretta,
As his wife moves her suitcase to front door.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom 1st February 2023