Tell me a story, Mother Thatcher.

Jackanory, Jackanory.

If you’re on high pay become a Tory,

Anything to uprise from.

Whose is the gutter,

Mother Thatcher?

Where the rats dare not go,

Where the breath smells bad,

Can’t afford toothpaste.

And the water that runs is laced with

Toryism – Toryite.

VOTE FOR ME, it’ll be all right.

But

Whose is the gutter,

Mother Thatcher?

That seeps under your door

That smells so strong

That soaks the poor

And what’s that throng

Mother Thatcher.

Today Will Pass

Today Will Pass

Dew drops in the morning,

The fallen tears of the night,

Evaporate in the ever dawning of daylight.

And here comes the day after,

The sun climbs above the horizon.

Cries turn to relief and laughter,

And the metal melts from the prison.

When tomorrow leaves you

Then you will cry.

But tomorrow stays by you

While today slips by.

Look the other way to your fear,

Happiness needs no excuse.

Flick away a fallen tear,

Let go, get off and let loose.

When tomorrow leaves you

You’re sure you will cry.

So you hold tomorrow with you

And today passed by.

Spell Bound

Spell Bound

Spell bound,

New found,

I scaled

And unveiled

Racism.

Mass production,

Pure convulsion,

Bodily function,

Jerky revulsion,

Racism.

Took

A quick look.

It has changed

And deranged

Into terror.

Genetic,

Rhetoric,

Racism.

Spell bound,

New found,

I scaled

And unveiled

Racism.

Gold from the Stone

Gold from the Stone

Water cupped in hands

Taken from the stream,

Brought upon a laughing land

Through the mouth of a scream.

Gold from the stone,

Oil from the earth,

I yearned for my home

From the time of my birth.

Strength of a mother’s whisper

Shall carry me until

The hand of my lost sister

Joins on to my will.

Root to the earth,

Blood from the heart,

Could never from birth

Be broken apart.

Food from the platter,

Water from the rain,

The subject and the matter,

I’m going home again.

Can’t sell a leaf to a tree,

Nor the wind to the atmosphere.

I know where I’m meant to be

And I can’t be satisfied here.

Can’t give light to the moon,

Nor mist to the drifting cloud,

I shall be leaving here soon,

Costumed, cultured and crowned.

Can’t give light to the sun,

Nor a drink to the sea,

The earth I must stand upon

I shall kiss with my history.

Sugar from the cane,

Coal from the wood,

Water from the rain,

Life from the blood.

Gold from the stone,

Oil from the earth,

I yearned for my home

Ever since my birth.

Food from the platter,

Water from the rain,

The subject and the matter,

I’m going home again.

Everything Is Rhythmical

Everything Is Rhythmical

Rhythm, rhythm,

Can you

Hear the

Rhythms?

Quick rhythm,

Slow rhythm,

God-given,

Life-living.

Rhythm, rhythm,

Can you

Hear the

Rhythms, rhythms?

If you listen close,