The Juggernaut

juggernaut3_edited

The Juggernaut that is life marches on
Never stopping for the stragglers on the way
Those less able to cope with the speed of it all
Get further disheartened every day.

But we set up a system to help them
It’s the bureaucracy that now runs our lives
And you get yourself sucked right inside it
Trying to wrestle with the rules it contrives.

But the vulnerable still struggle daily
With the system’s strange hoops we jump through
It’s as if it’s made complex on purpose
And it feels like your feet are in glue.

I’ve a neighbour who can never get out much
And she’s old and not too well off
So she has to decide if to eat or stay warm
And no heating is bad for her cough.

In the end what you find is the Juggernaut
Is the system itself and its weight
With its efforts to grind down the people
And an appetite we just can’t sate.

 

©Joe Wilson – The Juggernaut 2014

Economic Nonsense

economics

Gordon did rather badly
Georgie does much worse
Both of them arm wrestling
With the British Nation’s purse!

Playing around with the figures
Fiddling, not half, with the pounds
They tell you they’re easing the country’s woes
But they’re just making hollow sounds.

It doesn’t ever get any better
It often gets very much worse
That is the absolute shocking truth
Of the Downing Street C of E curse.

C of E also means Chancellor of the Exchequer
Chancellor of the Exchequer’s always mean.

©Joe Wilson – Economic Nonsense 2014

Caught in the Crossfire

waterboard

Torture wreaked havoc with his mind’s sanity
The anguish just chilled me to the core
As the beatings continue to reduce him
He is scared he’ll not take too much more.

Again the water washed over and woke him
The bucket clanging as they threw it back down
Once again he was taken to the table
Waterboarding‘ I thought with a frown.

He was laid on his back and then tied down
They put towels over his mouth and his nose
They poured and they poured water on him
Once again in his chest panic rose.

A reporter who’d been caught in the crossfire
There was no information he could tell
No amount of hard beatings and torture
Could make him give secrets he’d not held.

Beaten and bloodied he is taken
Back as before to his cell
He’s told them all that he ever could tell them
But he still can’t escape from this hell.

He languishes in his cell I am certain
He cries out for mercy from each pore
I know that they still give him more beatings
I see him as he hobbles past my cell door.

 

©Joe Wilson – Caught in the Crossfire 2014

1914 – From Aldershot to Braille

injured soldiers 1914

He was sent to Aldershot for training
He would learn how to kill or be killed
The training was all done with broomsticks
When he thought back it made his blood chill.

His unit was sent down to Portsmouth
To board a ship and go over there
It was packed to the gunwales with weapons
And the rations left no room to spare.

He practiced with his rifle on the journey
Like others who’d not held one before
He’d no sense of the horror he’d be facing
Nor the violence he’d always abhorred.

It was such a small piece of shrapnel
Caught both eyes as a shell case shattered
He never saw his two boys as they grew into men
Missing out on so much that had mattered.

His wife who he loved always helped him
And a life with new interests grew
He learnt how to read the braille papers
It pleased him he’d still know the news.

But the trauma from the experience scarred him
And ire with politics grew by the day
So he took to his new odd braille keyboard
And wrote articles and letters to complain.

He could sense the new way that the wind blew
In the corridors of power in the House
There was money to be made in new weapons
And politicians ignore those who grouse.

Then again two decades later it started
Another war that would mean more dead men
The obscenity rose like a bile in his throat
So once again he took to his ‘pen’.

©JRW2014

One in a group of poems recognising the centenary of WWI

1914 – We call It Wipers

ypres field guns 1914

Mud goes so stiff as it dries on the clothes
And it gets in the rifles and ammo
And men live in the mud for day after day
And they die there as the death tolls just grow.

The lads call it Wipers, but we know it’s called Ypres
And we don’t know the language but know mud
And the massive field guns that are firing this way
Causing lots of men to stay here for good.

In two months I’ve not heard the sound of a bird
With the fighting and dying you don’t listen
But I saw a dead blackbird lying out in the mud
And memories of home made my eyes glisten.

I’d rather be back at my home on the farm
Tending cattle and working the land
But I’m lying here shooting at men I don’t know
In a hard bloody war that I don’t understand.

We’ll soon be coming to the end of this year
We were told that it wouldn’t last too long
I don’t know how much longer the men can last out
The spirits willing but their bodies aren’t strong.

We’ve been pounded for hours, we’ve been pounded for days
It seems like so long and it’s so cold
There are men who’ve got frostbite and gangrene and sores
But it’s the dysentery that makes some men fold.

When will it end and who will make peace
They’re decisions that aren’t made at the front
But by men back at home who think they know best
Not by poor dying men bearing the brunt.

©JRW2014

One in a group of poems I wrote recognising the centenary of the outbreak of World War I

1914 – How many Generals died in battle last night?

somme_0

How many generals died in battle last night
Asked the young soldier of his captain
They’re far too important to actually fight son
Their time is spent planning how to silence the gun
Soon they’ll send in the men in a large show of force
They’ll go over the top and get mown down of course.

How many soldiers died in battle last night
Asked the young soldier of his captain
You can see for yourself son as we look down below
There were many young men son, some who we’d know
But my eyes grow so weary from seeing all the pain
Of so many young men dying scared in the rain
Men like us two, who will stay here at least
Who will never grow older for we now rest in peace.

©JRW2014

One in a group of poems recognising the centenary of WWI

On Sodden Fields

The rains seem to have finally subsided
At least it seems so for now
Mopping up the sodden devastation
Amid many an insurance row.

Some now say that dredging will not work
But surely history proves that it’s right
Though never a complete solution
At least it reduces the plight.

But politics now comes into play
It’s crucial to be seen in the right
So decisions that were taken only yesterday
Can so easily be changed overnight.

Climate change is with us for good now
It’s become part of our way of life
And solid steps will need to be taken
To end frequent bad weather strife.

But Chancellor’s have always cut budgets
And none have done more so than this
In fact in all of the service programmes
People see themselves staring into the abyss.

It’s all about how they look to the voters
For we carry their careers in our cross
For otherwise I think most politicians
About the plebiscite just wouldn’t give a toss.

We have wards now closing down in our hospitals
There are schools that are never repaired
A benefit system, though flawed, is besieged
Yet the rich tax avoiders still get spared.

So the land, like these other things will lose out
The efforts will cease as will the rain
Till the next time that the heavens all open
And ordinary folk again feel the pain.

There are houses that are ruined forever
Some insurers refusing the bill
Flood defenses that seem barely adequate
Properties from before empty still.

On sodden fields where houses keep rising
And new concrete covers over flood plains
Where tenants often get such poor insurance
And the country just never sees the gain.

But it’s the ‘I’m alright Jack’ way of the politicos
Who mostly live in their ivory towers
They’re the ones who aren’t making decisions
Yet the ones wielding all of the powers.

So the’cross’ is our one powerful weapon
It’s the most powerful thing in the land
We should all make so sure that we use it
And make all of these fools understand.

 

©JRW2014