Category Archives: Random Poetics

PoArtry – The Enforcer

Artwork by Derek Baker.
Poem based on the Image

I twist caps just to hit rats

Takes balls to have a racket, I prefer brick bats

More flaps than Barbour jackets when I’m packing

All gravy when I’m chip stacking

Poker face play the big blind

Take the biscuit and leave the cracker lacking

No slacking, I stick and move, more weight than body shamed youth

Move muted as abusive twitter mentions

Only need planning permission when the scope is extended

Pay up, it’s the best way to end this

Otherwise, it’s red dot on all offenders

I’m a debt collector not a death clock

Ain’t a portrait with my head shot!


If you heard that, nurse that or it’ll be a bittersweet symphony, where’s your verve at?

I exorcise where you work at.

My nines take lives I wish they were cats

You don’t want those problems

I blew veins for the cheese like I had a dare me intolerance

This ain’t the kind of mud you want to wallow in

What’s the point of debt if the last you have left is the time and air you’re borrowing?

This is the kind of wisdom that would have Solomon swallowing

Pay day is May Day and my steel will steal away with no alarm no caution

Green light on a red head that doesn’t heed a warning.

Bring the heat to your world like I was global warming.

Take your girl and your son cos I’m a knight that doesn’t need her morning.

If you never rolled the dice I wouldn’t have arrived to leave your soul on ice.

Say goodnight and hello to Bruce Forsyth

It was nice to see you, nice.

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Filed under Art, Random Poetics

PoArtry – Pint of Punch

Image: Friday Pay Packet by Derek Baker. – poetry based on the image.

Friday night’s for fighting

It’s Rose and crown vs canvas and brush

Scholar’s on tap to summon the black hats

Will it be brother or blood?

Emerald eyes smell fear and loathing

A chalice of malice passes like communion wine

For a sack of coal you can be out cold

Friday nights are Christmas time

It’s their round for a pound

Two squares stand up to box

Two circle to try angles

A proposal of hunters with no fox

Who will reach the engine room?

Who will smash the crown jewels?

Can Don the diamond produce a shiner or will the piper play the fool?

These two are a blue moon rising

Wolves howling about spilled pints, trodden toes and their rights

Spaces invaded, the only white flags are from those on the side

Wishing it was Saturday.

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Filed under Random Poetics

PoArtry – Miss Polly

“Miss Polly” by Derek Baker, an interpretation of the original poem

Caterwauling choirs, cranberry with canned fizz bull doze sleeping giants across causeways

Emerald eyes rupture roots standing italic, shaking spears at any globe in orbit.

Teacups and tiaras take the biscuit when the silver spoon isn’t full of sugar.

Dunkers hold court but it’s a masquerade ball.

Play by rules you’ve retweeted.

We fall for the measurements kissing the ground hoping they’re others sizes.

A pound of flesh isn’t that expensive.

Have a heart! That’ll do

Won’t you chuckle, brothers?

We sigh into cyclones pedalling clouds to pander.

Ganja seems more sacred than the Ganges but its peace, love and respect right?

Let’s all hold hands please

But don’t touch me

Alright, if you must

Just don’t thrust into the dovetail.

We try to make the “would” work when what’s supposed to isn’t the bigger prism.

Expect folk to harmonise with our music even when the track is hidden.

Ask them to rock our world and never throw stones

Ask for granite provolone in chromosomes forgetting a skeletons just a mobile home full of flaws and cracked windows.

Playing scratched records hoping our set has some floor filling singles.

But what has the bigger ring to it?

Be who you are even if we disagree? OR tick every box until nobody breathes?

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Filed under Art, Random Poetics, Society

The armband

In sports, the captain is considered the leader. The person who is responsible for the team during their game or competitive output. They are the manager’s mouthpiece, the one who will drive the team to win when facing defeat.

When a friend of mine asked the question, do captains of football teams matter these days, I duly fell down the rabbit hole.

I looked at the list of captains that had won the English Premier League since it began and saw a list dominated by central defenders. The average personality, the footballing phenotype was that of the hard man, the rock em sock em type. Pull you up by your bootstraps and hang you by them if you fail. They set the standards, command your respect and demand your attention let alone application.

For me we are in the era where that role has been greatly reduced and leaders now need to be throughout the team. They need to be able to communicate in more than one way. A prime example would be Ander Herrera (currently a Manchester United player) who will have his arm around a player one minute and have strong words with others in the next. All of this while looking to do his own job on the field of play.

I believe captains should be emblems of their team. The game is more cerebral now. It takes poise, speed of thought and skill to truly play at the highest level. In ice hockey we are no longer in the era of the enforcer, a player who exists solely for the rough stuff. In modern business we are no longer in the era of just whipping the work force until they get to the level you want them to be.

Masculinity has evolved to allow a greater range of types to make the team. It has evolved to grant the diversity of voice or playing style, a degree of value, and the ability to work without fear.

A captain may epitomize the team’s hard work or even their manager’s style. Those familiar with ice hockey will note the use of the letter C and A. With several assistant captains, the emphasis is on not being a 1 man team from a leadership perspective.

With that in mind, I consider a potential winner of the 2018/19 season, Liverpool’s Jordan Henderson and what he stands for. I see him as a “keep it simple” captain who prefers to lead by example. He’s not a brand, he’s an honest fellow and that’s it. While he may have been usurped in terms of visibility, a Jordan Henderson may be all you need to get a tune out of the rest of the team.

An architect will create a blueprint but you’ll need a labourer with knowledge of tools and materials to build. Who’s the captain? Is it the one who screams at you to get it done or the one that spots something to be done, communicates this to the team and fills in the gaps if necessary?

We like to think of ourselves as the captains of our own ships. If that’s the case, what are you doing to ensure that the team on the journey with you is doing what it needs to?

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Filed under Random Poetics


Crushing pulses of pandemonium pilfer my purposes.

Pathways of reeds rushes and leaves distressed with canned candour cover cracked screens.

Wearing patchwork seems fashionable when colours fill a shape.

What’s a super man without a cape?

I escape. Into waterways washing banks with interest.

Though laundering loveliness is endearing even Bambi died.

Can’t expect a leopard to have a spotless mind.

The carousel of well fayres have finite loops.

They say ride the one that suits you.


I keep tailoring top and tales hoping for a body of work

Sell me for what I’m worth

A magnetic moment ironing flaws as I walk steeled

Tired of staring at my bruises.

I want to heal, I want to feel.

For once this onion can remain unpeeled

Just give me A and B so I can see the road and walk along

Somewhere I belong

Wherever that is.


I’m sick of tripping from this slapstick

I searched my soul so much I asked google to map it.

If I must burn than can it be without sack cloth and ashes?

If I must burn, how come everything I think is fire strikes to take away my matches?

Cashed in passion feels like a coma because I’m strapped into this madness.

Thought there was treasure at the top, all I see is a flat chest

Pawn in this mad chess

There’s no checks, every move is contactless and strafing with strife

Blood drips so much I wonder if I’m cut for this life

Since they let the electric slide, I can’t fight the power.

The death of I in team and time in our, has come.

Let us dance


Let’s dance to algorithms of these coarse decisions

Hold the baby in an unwanted divorce and call him Moses

Fill our faces with roses instead of head stones.

Let him grow in the hope that this shall be lauded.

Give ourselves the life we were afforded

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Filed under Just Living, Random Poetics