In the beginning
a hydrothermal vent lets loose
and mumbles, jumbles, bumbles,
of single cells form a juice,
a soup, a pudding,
a veritable Eton Mess,
a Riot Club of amoebas join
and while Spectators watch
the growth of a lifeform quite sinister,
you could almost believe,
given time,
this primordial scum might just evolve
and one day become Prime Minister.

Road to nowhere

They walked slowly away along the road

Faded clothes stared at the floor

A bond of togetherness

Brought them tightly together

As they paused to eat nothing



In the soft air of drought

The wind of change was wanted

Grey is the sky they sought

Too late for many




Parched as I am I do not think
I’ll take a drink from you.
I’m not a fan of your saintly ways,
how the gays cause hurricanes,
in your eye,
that piercing optical orb,
able to see a written God
who happens to suit your convenient lie.

I’ll not shake your dirty hand
to rule a land I do not own.
I’ll take the huge and evil risk
to frisk and frolic in the grass
as I might,
with genders equal of each kind,
simple partnerships with a loving sign,
and work instead for what is right.

Parched as I am I do not think
I’ll take a drink with you in sight.