Saturday, 7 November 2015


The November Pub Poet's poetry theme was "I want to be in that number", intended to be a "When the Saints come marching in" reference, it being around All Saints Day. I decided to interpret the word "number" differently. As in numb. So inspired, I wrote the following.


I want to be in that number state
that stops me getting so irate
at news reports I read on-line,
events that seek to undermine
the way of life we now expect,
injustices and disrespect
that make me mutter, shake my head
and read beneath what others said
and find the comments that concur
with what I feel, make my heart stir,
but then I see a few replies
by people blinded by the lies,
and I despair how this can be,
and then I wonder, is it me?

I want to be in that number state
where one ignores the sorry fate
of all those people who have lost
their homes because the extra cost
of payments banks so sorely need
outweigh compassion, didn’t concede
that when they lent the money out
(smiling sweetly without doubt)
they didn’t care that markets change
and now refuse to rearrange
repayments to traverse this blip.
Instead they say “abandon ship”.
Is this the Big Society?
I doubt it though – perhaps that’s me.

I want to be in that number  state
where stomachs do not ulcerate
from worry prompted by the news
and over-dramatic interviews
with talking heads who talk too much
exacerbating such and such
to vilify minorities
and bring them firmly to their knees,
discrimination to ignore
until there’s change within the law
to move us to another phase
as done with women, race and gays.
But for now we cannot tolerate.
So tell me, is it right to hate?

I want to be in that number  group
That will accept the bovine poop
as spoken by that Minister
and not see all the sinister
decisions and precise incisions
cutting us in fine divisions,
whilst reducing key resources
“competition” – this of course is
divide and conquer, tried and true,
diverting us from what they do;
manipulation of the press:
a new pariah to address.
Surely other folk must see?
I wonder then, perhaps just me?

But apathy is wearing thin;
More people discarded in the bin,
It’s tempting to avoid the strife –
I don’t like conflict in my life –
but maybe we’ve not long to wait
to break free from the maiden aunt
I want to be in that number state –
but conscience says, “Me? No I can’t.”