Featured Poems
A Little Bit of Hardly Anything at All
A little bit of hardly anything at all
No point or purpose giving it a cause
Goes rushing tilting spinning as a ball
To hollow silent vacuous applause
This accident so random blind and dumb
Makes essence of indifference complete
Coincidence and nothingness compete
In minds controlled manipulated numb
This paradigm of meaninglessness thrives
Where man proud man plays such fantastic tricks
Deceived deceiving but of Satan’s kicks
Foolish hooked to fooling lesser lives
Evolved from mud to fish to frog to man
Devoid of reason meaning hope and plan.
The Reaction
The moment revealed an explosion of hate
They saw the young boy and began to berate
Some of the crowd said, “He’s obviously mad!”
Others more loudly, “You bounder, you cad!”
Everyone there felt the strong need to mock
If they’d had their way, the boy’d get a sock.
It began as a low key but murderous sneer,
Which rose, like a storm to a unified jeer.
Not one of the crowd failed to pin with a stare
The tempest increased when they started to swear
Out came the crudest and rudest of oaths
All the boy’d said was, “The Emperor’s no clothes”
A Step for Man
Joy ticker-taped the open top parade
Hysterical rejoicing focused fame
One giant fib for mankind had been made
Delirium and honour for each frame
Our secret seminaried knights with pride
Controlled young minds through astronomic lies
A universe that truth and science denies
Invading every class and home worldwide
A bigger leap had happened long ago
Its import sings to celebrate today
God’s reconciling sacrifice the way
A life of fulness shows no trace of woe
The empty tomb no false entrapping ploy
A source of awe and all consuming joy.
Epitome of Worthlessness
Epitome of worthlessness you just evolved from slime
A mini millisecond in a trillion eons of time
A jot in one vast universe an accident of chance
A cheerless rush of swirling orbs that no one calls a dance
A globe has up that’s relative upon a moving base
Your intellect not fine enough to sense its spin through space
You’re blind and dumb devoid of love of hope of fun of jokes
A victim seen as helpless of a huge pernicious hoax
They lied about your ancestry the whereabouts you live
So random heartless cruel with no kindness and no give
Haekel’s doctored drawings, Nebraska, Piltdown Man
Fakes designed to put you down and keep you in the can
The bullies made up speeds and sizes mockingly immense
Rockets shuttles ISS an intricate pretense
The scams of space a vacuous place where gravity pulls spheres
Of planets Hubble Mars trips build ignorance and fears
Break off the yoke of Satan’s lies that hide God’s gift of Earth
Christ died to let abundant life enhance your precious worth.
Happening
Creation was the object of their scorn
They changed the word to ‘happening’ with pride
And built a cornucopia of porn
To hide divine magnificence they lied
A lie so vast was certain to deceive
From twinkling lights they manufactured space
Imagined coloured orbs that spun at pace
Whose size and distance each were make believe
This search for life the public so adored
Across the void the magic probes found thrust
Pretended buggies chugged around the crust
Of planets the main features in the fraud
The big bang fib has really taken hold
Pseudo science could win against the odds
In distant worlds had bods evolved to gods?
A stream of space adventures would unfold
The hoax of Piltdown lasted 40 years
The media and the Pope were taken in
Choosing to forget the start of sin
The hoax of evolution reached all ears
They’ve flooded the curriculum in schools
Set up the scam to mesmerize the youth
Loudly mocked the Bible as untruth
And banished all creation-teaching ‘fools’
Almighty God creator of us all
Protects and blesses those who hear the call.
Secrets
All Brooders keep their secrets
The Brood does have its code
Although a loyal fraternity
Each walks a lonely road
If you began to question
What they do and why
They’d change the subject, obfuscate
Even tell a lie
A gentle probe repeated
They wouldn’t give a hint
They’d shut up like a barnacle
Immune to any dint
An invitation out to eat
Make sure that they’re indulged
Whatever treats and fun they’ve had
A clue won’t be divulged
If you put on some sad black robes
And asked them to confess
The firmest “No” you’ll never doubt
Would be behind that “Yes”
Suppose you teased or tickled them
They’d shun the sharpest jibe
Try terrorizing torture
Use blackmail or a bribe
They’d just keep stum, spill not a bean
You know you will not win
Cajole and pry, insist and spy
They’ve locked those secrets in.
The Brooder, who’s a Podlet
And not a Podkin yet
Is made to utter witchcraft oaths
On which his life is set
He’s sworn to inform no one
The rituals of the Brood
Or be despised and disemboweled
And thrown to fish for food
Don’t wonder ways are undisclosed
Or cryptic veiled arcane
The fear of being fishy food
Means Brooders are insane.
Jackbooted Evil Surreptitiously and Underhandedly Instituting Totalitarianism
The populous herd like fish in a shoal
For fifty years toxins sprayed earth as a whole
Now radio waves pulse from each 5G pole
Our network of nurses takes on their new role
Obedient to evil they do what they’re told
Continuous news media’s high, on a roll
Convince it’s in groups the disease takes its toll
Monitor youtube and settle each troll
Confusion that’s caused by our lies is quite droll
Forgotten the men whose true science we stole.
Ban shopping and business, put all on the dole
Eliminate class let each lord be a prol
Empty and lock up the Hollywood Bowl
Stop hugs and singing to numb every soul
In time man will live underground like a mole
In a frightened and lonely despairing deep hole
A people obedient and petty’s our goal
Ducks now in a row we have worldwide control.
Darwin
Charles Darwin’s work and legacy, is met with wild applause
But delving not too far you’ll find his ‘genius’ had flaws.
Training in the sciences and knowledge, he had none
His tutors of theology wondered what they’d done.
He saw the beaks of finches changed from place to place
But evidence of a change of kind science can find no trace
Observing man-made pedigrees of roses, pigs and horses
He thought that life evolved the same, though formed by natural forces.
He couldn’t see that chance mutation only works for bad.
An idea of how life began based on a lie is mad.
Entropy or order to disorder got reversed
Before a butterfly is formed a big bang must come first.
The content of his famous book included favoured races
Eugenics, killing off the weak, now had a proper basis.
This perfect chance to kick at God was grabbed at far and wide
Professors, even museum keepers ditched the truth and lied.
Haekel’s doctored drawings were inspired by Darwin’s theory
The Nebraska, Piltdown hoaxes shone until we all got leery.
For years they mocked Neandertahl as a man and monkey mix
But I’m sure this ancient noble man would have laughed at Darwin’s tricks.
University Lecture
The importance of detail in history’s colossal
The age of the rock is the age of its fossil.
“How do we know that the fossil’s are old?”
The question annoyed him and his sleepy eyes rolled.
Etched deep in each course, repeated each term,
Filling shelves in each library the answers are firm.
We need to be certain and sure of a fact,
Science has value when science is exact.
A fossil’s the age of its own rock floor,
Two billion or million of years point four
The Wonderings of Glob O’ Slime
‘We are one of those globs in the period of time between nothing and nothing and wondering about it’. Isaac Asimov, Science Digest
In the backroom of nothing
No reason or rhyme
Not forgotten or gotten
Is there one glob of slime?
Glob cannot be lonely_
Is he alone
To let out or let in
A soliliquous moan?
Glob cannot be sure
Things are what they seem.
Is each thought real
Or is it a dream?
Is he trusting in luck
To give him a break_
A chance, accidental,
Molecular shake?
Does he have the potential
Does he wish in his mind
To evolve to a fish, frog,
Dog or mankind?
Glob should not be proud
Or ashamed of his slime
Something could happen
Just give it time.
Geologic Time Exposed
Rocks’ ages are fixed we are told
‘The surface is young, the deep’s old’.
But each digging survey
Shows layers topsy-turvy
And questions just what we’ve been sold.
The Leaf
Since he was a tiny bud he’d wished to fly or dance
But tethered to an ancient oak he couldn’t see a chance
The trunk and thickest branches round him hardly moved at all
“Keep on keeping on and on, then you’ll get thick and tall”
All kinds of birds would land and cheep and preen and hop and hide
He’d wave as they would dive and swoop and soar with joy and glide.
His colour changed from green to brown but still he was no dancer.
He heard, one day, self help from birds. He knew he had the answer.
The sun was bright, his colours shone, he felt a fierce wind blow
“To let your dreams come true,” they’d said, “don’t doubt but just let go.”
Then he was off in pirouettes, in tumbling loops he spun
He floated, flew and flipped and wheeled. He’d never had such fun.
With grace he gently touched the ground, his dance was now more subtle.
He swooned, rose up and balanced in a twisting little scuttle
The spot he chose to land upon was on a compost heap
His need to dance being sated he was now content to sleep.
Reading Systems
Doing dull
Confusing crass
Reading schemes affects yer
I’m not surprised
We see the rise
Of nationwide dyslexia
Trite and stodgy
The pedagogy’s
Muddled and erratic
No debt of shirt
If you bet on Gert
She’s so procelleusmatic
True Joy
If I was an artist in colour dance or song
If I could add up figures and never get them wrong
If I put on a musical which everyone could hum
If I could rescue children from the trafficking and slum
If I was picked to play then scored the world cup winning goal
If acting Hamlet hear them say, “He’s perfect for the role”
If I could build a life skills course or get the world to read
If I invented something that helped a desperate need
The joy of all these talents would be nothing in the end
Compared to hearing Jesus and knowing he’s my friend
Dream
I could not speak but jabs of scorn pecked near
And others joined to colour in the spite
Each probing thorn would jostle with its peer
And sneering goad a yet more vicious fight
The rhythmic waves compounding sour intent
Enriched with barbs of viciousness gave vent
To mocking screech and shrill reviling scourge
A roar of rancor seeking how to purge
A deep and rich cacophony of bile
Both open blatant brash and using guile
Concocted accusations sought out shame
“Your wretched life is more than just a game!”
I stepped out early swinging through the line
The singing tingling soaring power was mine.