Category Trump

Parrot speaks to the 2-Bit mobsters

This latest parrot stanza refers to Theresa May’s encounter with the EU leaders in Salzburg yesterday and “The Sun’s” headline which appeared yesterday evening.

It said : “EU DIRTY RATS – The SUN SAYS we can’t wait to free ourselves of the two-bit mobsters who… Continue reading Parrot speaks to the 2-Bit mobsters

The Parrot Seeks a Cage

Here is that parrot again, bird of paradise, thundering from his cage in rhyme royal, claiming his liberty to speak his truth. He fears for his young and sees no true or worthy leaders anywhere, merely creatures of self-interest seeking their own gain from our flounderings… Continue reading The Parrot Seeks a Cage

Parrot Addenda

Over this Summer of 2018, I have written a series of stanzas in rhyme royal, mostly on the subject of Brexit. Here they are, as a collection.

Each has been written as a separate item, rather than as part of a longer poem. They were produced in response to, and often very soon after, various… Continue reading Parrot Addenda

T-Bone Trump

I have written these lines in recognition of Mr Trump’s Summer visit to the UK. But what is there to recognise, in truth, behind the crass appearances presented on TV ? The squalling baby in nappies above the London skylines ? The humiliation of this small… Continue reading T-Bone Trump

Boris Johnson Hies Abroad

 

There are many employers in the UK, as in other countries. They range from employers running large organisations to those who manage small teams, from people seeking to fill vacancies at various levels of a complex hierarchy, to leaders of small groups of adventurers… Continue reading Boris Johnson Hies Abroad

Dust

The poem I’m publishing here foresees the end of the world. The false god Me n’ Mine has too many worshippers to be withstood. Besides Greed, the angel which serves Me n’ Mine most faithfully is the Lie and it is the Lie by which the false god rules and will destroy us all… Continue reading Dust

The Flotsam of Frantic Dreams

 

We don’t know any more

where our lives belong

or even where to hide.

The walls of home

hold nothing up

or out

and the door hangs slack

on the hinge.

 

Where have our lives gone ?

 

I consult the… Continue reading The Flotsam of Frantic Dreams

That Child Alone in the Tower and Out on the Golf Course

That Child Alone 2

The Rule of the Rough Beast

A Rough Beast

 

The “Rough Beast” is a phrase from “The Second Coming” by YB Yeats. Written in 1919, it is a poem that becomes more topical with each passing day.

The last three lines of the poem above are a deliberate reference… Continue reading The Rule of the Rough Beast

The Angel Overhead

 

In his grief, he asked the angel hanging overhead,

his faceless confessor  :

Why, Lord, do sinners’ ways so grossly prosper ?

How can you allow the Lie so fatly to preside ?

And the angel answered :

I invited you to my feast,

my laden tables… Continue reading The Angel Overhead

Copyright © Rogan Wolf – Poet and Social Worker
In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

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