(“Utopia and Terror Merit Badge”, 2010, original oil)
The Age of Terror
It’s a new reign of terror
With demon hit squads roaming the earth
To lurk on roof tops, hedges
And parking lots for their attack
While cowardly anonymous callers SWAT
The unsuspecting next in line.
All the time the voice boxes
With their silent protest paddles
And bullhorns call for mayhem and murder,
Blood in the streets
And resistance in the name of democracy,
All for their deranged minions to do.
As they do nothing but double down
On their insider trading
Planning on the day
When they’ll be back in the seat of power
Back driving the economy off the cliff
And their adversaries into gulags.
This is the age of terror
Where nowhere or one is safe,
Where the Death Cult's agenda of greater good
Includes the sacrifice of you and me
By the billions
In the name of order, security, peace and freedom.
This is where we are today.
Are you terrified yet?
Or are you laughing at their desperation,
As the morning tide continues to rise, lifting all boats
Destroying all
Their castles made of sand.
(3/12/25)
You'll regret this summer
As children's bodies hang from branches
Childkill meets all too popular now
Teenage girls kiss their friends and say
I'm going to die/hell now
The mincers are out in clubs
And hell on earth
Seems the clerical assumation
Last I heard they're organising
Murder squads to kill worthless people
Like me.
Come on over sometime.
This is England now.
In the 60’s we protested
Out on the quads
With our armbands and banners and signs
‘Til the rage manifested
By police riot squads
Put a damper on all our designs.
We erected no tents
And we went home to sleep
But were sure we could orchestrate change.
Yet these current events
Which on campuses sweep
Seem, to me, very different and strange.
In this dark midnight
In this impure air, you turned around
At the height of the turmoil of confusing thoughts
In a damp and deadly room
Under the relentless barrage of painful thoughts
Repetition of my wanderings from myself
The execution squads of every minute, me for myself
Living in the grave of every moment, me beside myself
You are not there and... the barrage of your memory... is falling again
There is no escape from thinking about you
It is impossible to separate from yourself
It's like I'm sitting next to a swamp
I have washed my hands of everything
A boat sitting on the mud, which broke
I am stuck with "nothing".
The beginning...the end is blocked
It rains absurd seconds after each other
It smells like death every moment
I was always late
A late, early, early time
A pre-event
A line without a starting point
I'm so lost in myself
which is not found
Sometimes I even become you
I go, I get enough of myself
Disgusted.....disgusted.....I'm losing myself
Again.....again.....with your memory
I will start with myself
Mediocracy
Along the simple path we plod
Bureaucracy
With a maze of obstacles to trod
Autocracy
Also trying to dodge the hit squads
Theocracy
Steering clear, of banned lesser gods
Plutocracy
Ride on through, wielding big fat wads
Democracy
A minefield of all above, behind the facade
04/12/23
For the benefit of any non-Middle-English
speakers, a literal, word-for-word translation
has been provided beneath each line of
the original:
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote!
When we've already had enough! of April showers
Whan priketh hem Governeur in oure corages
Our prick of a governor locks us down in our garages
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages
Ha, ha! Our goon squads are itching to go on barrages
And smale fowles maken melodye
And assault thine ears with foul-mouthed serenades
That slepen al the night with open ye
'Twill fershloft three far aye with mnemonic charades
~ A special thanks to Middle English translator, Barry Kanter
No tap water, no electricity
Shut downs, lock downs -the citizens protest
Their crime - possible duplicity
The new (dis) order they must not contest
Sweaty odors fill the air
Policemen arrest you without a mask
Demolition squads in slums seem so unfair
At the wrong time , wrong place you will be taken to task
Schools shut but we learn our lesson well
Trust not in man made systems; they will fail
Focus on the written word to tell
No straight lines; there’s always a twist in the tale
In seventy four we were just lads
They lined us up
In front of the Drill Hall
All a bit strange to us
Some parents too who looked so proud
The courses marched past
Then someone spoke and instructors bellowed
The squads doubled around the parade ground
The parents all laughed and I smiled
An instructor came and called the roll
Parents said goodbye
And they took us to the Quartermasters store
Khaki cotton and a black balmoral
It was the first year of forty-four.
© Paul Warren Poetry
First day as Police Cadets
Faerie children were all a titter
It was spring time no longer bitter
Grandpa Faerie’s dandelion distribution day
They were giddy and happy from far away
They arrived in doubles and triples and quads.
They giggled and wiggled in all kinds of squads
Grandpa Faerie was out with great speed
Recognizing their happiness for this pretty weed.
Faerie children were all a titter
It was spring time no longer bitter
Grandpa Faerie’s dandelion distribution day
They were giddy and happy from far away
They arrived in doubles and triples and quads.
They giggled and wiggled in all kinds of squads
Grandpa Faerie was out with great speed
Recognizing their happiness for this pretty weed.
In dark and light they dwell.
Not in holes, but above ground.
Their smiles and bodies a shell.
Some move without sound,
Others with words astound.
Hearts full of facades,
Us they surround.
Beware the carnivorous gods.
Lies and hate they expel.
For impurity renowned,
Their tongues like fire from hell,
Their crimes abound,
Justice unfound.
Forming their squads,
An attack is inbound.
Beware the carnivorous gods.
In fear, not a soul will tell.
The alarm unsound,
Death will cast his spell.
Reason run aground,
Truth uncrowned.
Mankind at odds,
With hate bound.
Beware the carnivorous gods.
I say, stand your ground!
Bend not to their rods,
Let truth resound.
Beware the carnivorous gods.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload quads of queries
Lumped and dumped on our battered bodies by blister berries
Spiced with slices of suppression and subjugation
That in the end neither mend nor amend our conjugation.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload wads of whims
Whisked and kicked into reams and streams of our dreams
Spiced with slices of surrender without a defender
To prevent vents and tents that land our glands into a blender.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload squads of sentiments
Sneaked into tricks that kick our caveats and comments
Said with the aid of braids of dread and lead
That pound and ground pain within the brain in our head.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload triads of tribulations
Located to allocate lots, plots and slots of sneeze speculations
Marinated with cellulite, marmite alongside territory termites
That undulate and perambulate in our tenderness satellites.
Today the new coffee machines use only pods
Convenient but soon they'll be sending squads
Who'll come to your house
And satisfy your spouse
No need for you to touch her happiness knobs
One day the son said to God,
“Humans need a laugh squad.”
“Say what son?”
“You mean fun?”
“Wouldn’t that seem a bit odd?”
“No Dad, I think it’d be cool,”
“Maybe even laughter in school!”
He’s sounding coy,
the silly boy,
thought God, Am I a sour old fool?
Then he remembered the rip
in poor Job’s small ill-fated ship
The sound, like split britches
had them laughing in stitches.
Thought God, “When did my humor get stripped?
God pondered and stroked his long beard.
Cherubs and seraphims peered,
though mystified,
they deified.
Downstairs, the outcast one sneered.
“Tell you what son, let’s give ‘em politics.”
“It’s way more fun than sinking small ships.”
So the laughing squads
(two teams at odds),
were loosed on the masses with tricks.
Which, coincidently, was fine
with the one who’d crossed the line,
Beelzebub,
became the hub
for political slime in prime time.
Human Rights June 27,2015
Human rights for you and me
Palestinian children living free
People free without a tear
Children playing without fear
Irish children white, orange and green
A united Ireland without the queen
A new Ireland for me and you
Living in peace with thirty-two
No death squads in our country
Make killing is a memory of our past
First nation people have their land
No dividing line in the sand
Mount Rushmore Mountain Time for change
Those faces on the rock
Free the people you and me
First Nations people must be free
Africa, Madiba’s dream
Eyes blind to bigotry
He showed the world the way
Let the people have their say
Black Americans locked in jail
The justice system did surely fail
Homeless people, you know what I mean
Give them a home, the American dream
Feed the people, ban the bomb
The politicians got it wrong
Make our world a better place
Save our children and the human race
Human rights for you and me
Palestinian children living free
Gerrard McGeachy
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