No, that will never happen

The sun will never cease to rise 

nor endless orbits of the planets run, 

and I will never shine within your eyes. 

No, that will never happen. 

The clock will never cease to chime, 

the sands of time will not run out, 

and never will your love be mine. 

No, that will never happen. 

As morning surely brushes low the night, 

I will hopelessly pursue your favour 

but you will never sense my fiery light. 

No, that will never happen. 

Perpetual motion as the years go by 

the tides and seasons run their cycles 

and my love for you will never die. 

No, that will never happen. 

Steve Wheeler © 20 October, 2020

Image breaker

image breaker a spoken oath, a darkly uttered phrase, 

an incantation of this planet’s ancient days 

spawned occult runes and twisted ideology 

that stained a moment in our human history 

an image, black on field of red and white; 

a tainted, whirling, devastating rite 

upon dark uniforms of hatred worn 

while death oaths of allegiance were sworn 

swift rise of blind hatred and ambition 

flags raised grimly for an evil mission 

riding a vile wave of nationalistic pride 

toward the deadly goal of ethnic genocide 

that moment all humanity now abhors 

reborn inside our eve-present wars 

those torrid memories of a darker past 

countless victims of a vain iconoclast 

how could this tragedy unfold? we plead 

as we reflect upon those gruesome deeds 

systemised slaughter for a vicious racial slur 

state sponsored murder that would not demur 

for all we treasured through and through 

and once held up as wholesome and true, 

was crushed by jackboots on a stony floor 

full shattered, perhaps to rise no more

yet from the splintered crystal came 

a firm determination to regain 

a higher purpose than that howling corps 

that spun a million pieces to the floor 

the tyrant’s power and strength can only thrive 

inside the fears of subjugated lives 

rise up therefore, and let your courage break 

your mental chains for all humanity’s sake 

smash the despot’s dark insignia hard 

fracture his hateful symbols into shards 

his acolytes must ever be pursued 

their fascist image never more to be renewed 

Steve Wheeler © 15 October, 2020

image source

You have been warned

It doesn’t take much to trigger me 

to get me on my hind legs, suddenly. 

You’d only have to condescend 

to make my forehead veins distend. 

You’d end up the recipient 

of a tirade you wished you could prevent. 

Invective would flow like an autumn storm, 

so don’t hack me off. You have been warned. 

He might look like a ball of fluff 

but that dog is dangerous enough. 

He’s vicious and his teeth will tear 

and you will spoil your underwear. 

He’ll try to tear you limb from limb 

if you should dare to mess with him 

and you will wish you’d not been born. 

So don’t pat the dog. You have been warned. 

A wife should always be adored. 

She doesn’t deserve to be ignored. 

My boss learnt this the hardest way 

When his wife found out he’d played away. 

He ended up in bandages 

When she cut off his allowances. 

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

Remember this. You have been warned. 

Steve Wheeler © 5 October, 2020

Graphic by Steve Wheeler

Friday night

a one car crash at the charles cross junction 

cone zone closure at the intersection 

rain falls heavily on the black top 

traffic lights cycle go, amber, stop 

blue lights flashing, emergency 

fire and rescue cutting someone free 

onlookers hang from windows staring 

instagram twitter snapchat sharing 

police collect witness statements 

rain continues with no abatement 

lights reflect of the slick tarmac 

shattered glass and a broken roof rack 

teen drunk driver stands obdurate 

his passenger not so fortunate 

girlfriend rushed to the a and e 

driver is a walking casualty 

not so worried she was nearly killed 

more concerned about the drink he spilled 

fluorescent yellow jacketed men 

measure the scene, then measure again 

wreckage cleared within the hour 

blood washed away by the downpour 

clouds clear up and moon shines down 

on another friday night in town 

Steve Wheeler © 20 September, 2020

This poem was first published in Urban Voices by Steve Wheeler, Wheelsong Books, 2020.

You only ever quote from Friends

These days you only quote from Friends; 

what happened to your Nietzsche? 

The philosophy of Chandler Bing 

has become your favourite feature 

The monologues of Monica 

and the rhetoric of Rachel 

imbue your conversation 

at the expense of Marx and Hegel. 

From the theory of Unagi, 

to the smelly cat conjecture, 

and the “how you doin’?” thesis, 

they’re all found in your lecture. 

Could I be more bored of Joey? 

I’ve had my fill of Phoebe Buffay, 

and listening to Ross is dull, 

he has nothing deep to say. 

There’s only one Friends philosophy 

that rings out strong and true; 

so no matter what the future holds, 

you know: I’ll be there for you. 

Steve Wheeler © 16 September, 2020

Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Daily Mail in the style of John Cooper Clarke

i'd rather brave a force ten gale 

be swallowed by a humped back whale 

or grab a tiger by its tail 

than read a page from the daily mail 

i'd sooner fight with christian bale 

or pick my teeth with a rusty nail 

after eating several uncooked snails 

than read a page from the daily mail 

i'd rather wear top hat and tails 

while searching for the holy grail 

or watch a full season at port vale 

than read a page from the daily mail 

i'd sooner learn to swear in braille 

while eating bags of uncooked kale 

ride cattle class on the network rail 

any of the above would prevail 

over having to read the daily mail 

Steve Wheeler © 10 September, 2020

This poem was first published in Urban Voices by Steve Wheeler, Wheelsong Books, 2020.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Daily Mail in the style of Dylan Thomas

The Daily Mail

We gently, 

inexorably wander

Into that dark corner store

But thus to avoid 

That cursed tabloid 

We must our impulses ignore

For gold 

we shall not squander

Steve Wheeler © 14 September, 2020

This poem was first published in Urban Voices by Steve Wheeler, Wheelsong Books, 2020.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons