I hate this time of year
now it starts to get colder and
I turn my heating on
Watch as the elderly struggle to keep warm.
Take some time to notice
Or just actually give a fuck
As that old man or lady down the road
Might be struggling or stuck
'cause that'll be us when we're older
when our hair turns to white
then we'll be the ones getting colder
as we shiver our way through the night
So on day five still feeling alive
Out for food, best mate by my side
Mood has slowed down and I'm not feeling so high
I can still smile but it's beginning to slide.
Okay verse in depth, let's see what I say
I'm meant to be a mad poet anyway
Wide eyed and focus on the shadows of past
Look for the demons that watch through mirrored glass
Paranoid I am not. So I'm calling them out
The voices that torment me are on longer about
Listen intently to see if I'm still mad
But there's nothing and no one as my head's not to bad
Delusions or notions that once rule my heart
I'm back in control ... where the fuck shall I start?!
I'm alive and out of my bed
These tablets I can feel as my body digests
My mind is clear but now racing like a jet
Synthetic I know, But it's filling the gaps
As I venture around and now out the door
Iv not felt this good before
I don't feel lathargic Or stuck in bad mood
I feel naughty and cheeky,
So sorry if I'm rude
But I feel like it's working and
I'm climbing back from the dead
I'm not a great believer in medication
But this time it seems that
these pills are good for my head
So let me enjoy these first few days of bliss
The joker is back, For now I'm a delight
I'm now sat smiling and chuckling away.
Hurray hurray .....
So a thirty day test to continue to write
a poem a day to capture insight
Let's see what effects these new pills start to bring
And if I can still perform and sing
I feel okay though it's only day three
It's normally about 4 weeks till the med start to work
But right now I'm fine head doesn't hurt
I'm not depressed I'm just in my low
Worried about mania when the prozac starts to show
BEWARE when the cycle is in full swing
And I'm up in the clouds - the bipolar king.
from the mist that echoes my name
Medication is nearing,
Inner memories being tamed
Will it put out or dampen my flame
Who to ask when point finger of blame
I can write for now as I will each day
Until the pills make creativity waste away
On the 4th I'll be going dressed up as a clown
but with helmet and whistle - do I see you frown?
Yes, I'm promoting myself to Inspector that day
my blue flashing light keeping real cops at bay
we don't want a replay of what went before
when the Dean of Westminster slammed compassions wide door
With Bonk as Inspector they'll think before they
arrest his brothers and sisters on their protest day
But I've not come alone I've invited a gang
of other great clowns who'll arrive with a bang
Keep the police on their toes, unsure and off balance
they won't know what's hit them when we start to dance
I'm coming with Dandy he'll be looking quite grand
with his neat bag of tricks and his quick slight of hand
He's going to run for prime minister, that is his boast
He can't speak at all but can make really good toast
So clowns to the front we'll be there to distract
and confuse the old bill when they start to attack
pulling mice from their helmets and flowers to boot
we may even start tickling, that would be a hoot
So practicing japes that we can do that day
keep the master of trickery from having his way
when the slick Duncan donut hides under his desk
we won't stop till we've nailed him with our welfare test!
You can run IDS but you can't hide!
Where is the media when real news is about?
reporting on celebrities, of this I've no doubt
When thousands of people were out on the streets
the BBC was silent, just playing repeats
But when DPAC stood firm along with sisters and brothers
and the old bill turned out in their hundreds to smother
a protest of peace held inside the church grounds
disabled people - that brought heavy frowns
from the Dean of Westminster who shouted forlorn
"Get these terrorists out; off our sanctified lawn!"
But what of the part that religion should play
in protecting the vulnerable when they have no say
Is GOD not outraged with injustice and lies?
Are the Dean and his cronies all playing off-side?
When the police threaten Cripples with prison or worse
when they stand in a church yard giving chapter and verse
Not allowing PA's to provide their support
stopping water and medicines as if it were sport
Standing on blankets and blocking a ramp
with dumb, blank expressions disrupting the camp
But look, here comes the media their cameras a flashing
the hacks closely follow, their teeth all a gnashing
But DPAC with dignity along with their peers
have achieved what they wanted, their goal, to loud cheers
The police looking foolish in over-kill mode
watch as people depart, spilling out on the road
So where does that leave them, with egg on their face
as the church and police in their three legged race
slink quietly away as the public take note
that societies guardians have all turned their coat!
For more information about this event please click here
Glenda Jackson, amazing MP, I listened to you with awe
as you grab IDS by his shiny lapels and use him to wipe the floor
"He's lost touch with reality" we all hear you say
"He'll be walking on water if he had his way!"
Your passion is blinding your rhetoric cuts
like a rapier flashing to slice at this klutz
cutting right to the heart of his bullying ways
your withering look skewers all that he says
as you pour out your scorn quoting facts after fact
He slumps in his seat like a second class act
Trying smug and bemused he goes for a look
that only back-fires when he looks like a crook!
We love you dear Glenda and if we had our way
you'd be leading this country, keeping Tories at bay
your passion, your caring you wear on your sleeve
the words that you use are the ones we believe
So please keep on attacking this cold hearted thug
squash him under your heal as though he were a bug!
You've probably noticed that I've not been adding to my blog for a while. Well, this is because I've been taking my work into another dimension - that of music.
Working alongside talented singer-song writer Simon (Woody) Wood, we've managed to add an extra depth to some of my work. Poems such as 'Are you mad yet' get an added touch of irony when sung to Woody's up-beat musical score.
Cameleon also benefits from Woody's clear singing style alongside of my earthier rap.
Click on this link to hear some of our first recordings then please let me know what you think.
I'm here in a churchyard invited by Vince
to join with the Dandies and dance
A bit taken aback by the range of their art
so I sit for a while in a trance
They have taken this town by surprise and by storm
Pride and proud with their flags waving free
Everyone friendly and so full of life
surely, this is the way it should be
Brilliant blue is the sky as it soars overhead
and folk dressed as daisies perform
A background of chatter, like birds in the trees
and we all think 'this should be the norm'
The juxtaposition of those taking part
and those who have just wandered in
makes for comical scenes as the two worlds collide
mixing Yang with the Dandies bold Yin
And as for Vince Laws, well his passion is such
that he shares it with all who take part
as his energy flows, first through me, then through you
we all realise that here is pure art
They say that they will stop us from protesting in the streets
they say we are all scroungers and benefit claimant cheats
They're bringing out the big guns to stop us in our track
if we make our protest public, it's their duty to attack
with water cannon mounted on a heavily armoured truck
they'll shoot the legs from under us, 'cause they don't give a fuck
But Bonk's going to dispel them and take back all our power
by cleaning out the government with his holy water shower
He'll take the piss quite literally and cover them in shame
then he'll shake the drops, exposing them at their sordid little game
He'll turn the slogan on its head when we say 'Piss on Pity'
instead he'll target Tories and the fat cats in the City
A flood of raw emotion, spraying out with all the best
they'll sink or swim as he zips up, having put them to the test!
In the disguise of the clown it's a statement I make
A painted vision of what’s really at stake
Laugh at me, I'm sure you will
as I walk in face paint on up the hill
My hands droop down, my balloons are deflated
all this crap makes me constipated!
I'M THE CLOWN OF JUSTICE
AND I'VE COME TO LET YOU KNOW
THAT IT'S TIME FOR IDS TO GO
REVOLUTION FOR THE PEOPLE
I STAND HERE FOR THEM
PORTRAYING OUR ANGER FOR NEWS AT 10
I hear them laughing, mutter under their breath
'look at this nutter in his fanciful dress!'
But inside I'm laughing, they just don't get it,
the joke is on them and this clown is well fit
to show them the errors of their wicked ways
I'll challenge corruption for the rest of my days
Then the G4S guards came out to play
using their uniforms to scare me away
Using the heavies against a clown
their reputation soon comes tumbling down
So I start with my poetry and watch their reaction
confusion and fear on their face slows their action
Hands held in front of them, skin turning grey
my poems keep on hitting them as they turn away
They have no defence for my hard hitting rhyme
as my words keep on pummelling, my poetry sublime
Then others protesters join in with this clown
repeating my words as the thugs tumble down
Although small in numbers our strength starts to grow
as the G4S cowards retreat from their foe
Our poetry echoes as chanting out loud
a clown and his people all standing so proud
So now we have the answer when faced in this way
and those Duncan Smith guard dogs don't want us to stay
We just start chanting poetry, together in rhyme
it just sends them all running, it works every time!
You may start to notice a slight change in my writing style as I get more in touch with the anger that I feel towards this government and their war of attrition against disabled people.
Sometimes I have so much churning around in my head that I have difficulty in getting the words out, never mind getting them onto my Blog in a clear and lucid format.
So excuse the spelling errors, the poor grammar and lack of punctuation sometimes. I just need to say it, and fuck the presentation!
When we all gathered nationwide
lots of Crips standing side by side
We stood with pride outside Atos' door
mindful of those who'd gone before
We shouted out that Atos killed
reminding them of the blood they've spilled
Did they hear what we were saying
and recognise our pain while praying
A silent march around the block
whilst Atos staff looked on in shock
We came in the morning and stayed all day
the police were about but they stayed well away
The demo a success, our team work had won
The next day Atos staff memos were really glum
They reported that we threatened and abused their staff
come off it Atos, you're having a laugh!
The final count down has begun
so says Bonk, old Crippen's son.
He's travelled far and journeyed wide
to make sure ATOS cannot hide
He's on the way with foot in door
he's going to even up the score
With ringing shout and banner high
this Atos kills you'll hear him cry
So Atos workers if you must
in your bosses cease to trust
Then join us here as we protest
throughout the country, be our guest
Just quite your jobs, leave right away
'cause Atos stands with feet of clay
But if you stay and still assess
with murder pens and forms that mess
with people's lives and tear apart
computer code that has no heart
So stop this now, this putrid farce
or we will stuff it up your arse!
Only eight days more untill we start our shout
telling all the people, what ATOS is about
We don't give a damn if it's all bad weather
we'll make our point quite forcibly by coming all together
Remembering those people who've all died in pain
mistreated by ATOS for just some monetary gain
The memory of them all, held by us with pride
no reason at all for so many to have died
So as we gather proudly, in our mass numbers
to protest once against, about those ATOS blunders
As disabled people, we'll be standing strong
shouting out together that ATOS is all wrong!
You ask me why I write in rhyme, do I really do it all the time?
Why I communicate in verse, does it make my thoughts seem terse?
What's the reason for this style, easier my thoughts to file?
My poems they need to be compact, to cram in feelings and some fact.
Condensed, distilled, more punch it packs, I have to keep it on the tracks.
But then my verses can be dark, beware the bite that's in this bark.
My anger it just spills right out, and then my poems become a shout!
All those feelings locked away, it becomes so hard to say,
what I really feel inside, where my secret thoughts all hide.
But with verse they seem to fall, from between my lips they call,
faster than the speed of thought, in my poetry they're caught.
Feelings strung out in a row, like a life-line you would throw.
Perhaps that is the reason why, I think in verse no tongue to tie.
Then it's rhythm to the fore, feelings knocking on the door,
waiting for my mind to turn them into images that burn
like a candle in my mind, spilling light as words unwind.
Into doggeral and worse, into badly fractured verse.
But it becomes what I can show, all my muddled thoughts that grow,
into something you can see, which in the end is really ... me!
Love Bonk x
Created as a guest poem for Mentally Wealthy
What's your problem they ask me, why can't you just chill?
You don't have to do anything, you're supposed to be ill!
The doctors and specialists all say the same
Don't expect an improvement, your mind is quite lame!
Just keeping taking these tablets and then you will see
that it all becomes slower ...
and slower ...
Let Atos assess us and cut us away
away from the lifeline that benefit's pay
Tell the public we're wasters, we're all on the con
we're not really disabled, the conclusions forgone
put us all in the workhouse, get us all of the streets
keep society tidy, hide us benefit cheats
Being shown as the scapegoats, it's not really the bankers
blame us poor bloody cripples not those greedy fat wankers!
So let's shout out our anger, exposing our pain
let the world know we're hurting whilst playing their game
We can gather at Atos, at all of their sites
and we'll see what reaction our protest incites
Let it be on a Wednesday, quite early, say eight?
on the 19th of February, let's make it a date!
Tell them Bonk sent you!
ONLY 16 more days to go!
An organised Atos Protest at every Atos Centre in the country on Wednesday 19th February, 2014. Starting times vary. Click here for more details
Are you mad yet?
They're killing off our brothers
our sisters, all those others
Are you mad yet?
They say we all are faking
And the benefits we're taking
Are you mad yet?
We’re the reason there's no money
in this land of milk and honey
Are you mad yet?
They're making us the scapegoats
with an endless flow of bad quotes
Are you mad yet?
in the media, which they own
as they cut us to the bone
Are you mad yet?
THEN WHY AREN'T YOU MAD YET?!
Woke up, got dressed, straight out to play
used to wonder what I'll find that day?
I could go anywhere, be home when I like
no one will notice if I'm not back till night.
I travelled and wandered, imagination gone mad
been my own secret agent, a spy, not a lad.
With scabs on my knees and scrapes up my arms
I'd wander through fields and trespass on farms.
Climbing tall trees and walking on walls
Lost in a bubble, no real thought about falls.
Talking to strangers, I trust everyone
creating adventures, a bundle of fun.
Getting home gone eleven and knocking the door
"where the hell have you been?" his shout turns to a roar.
As he smacks, kicks and belts me, his anger gone wild
I can still feel the bruises, a small battered child.
From this I learnt how to get by and survive
to shrug off the beatings, to learn how to hide
away in my head in a place that was mine
my own fantasy world, my own little shrine.
But when you get older the boundaries merge
and real life and fantasy start to converge.
What's safe when in childhood confuses with age
with billowing cloud banks obscuring the stage.
My bi-polar reflections are what I have left
of my childs way of hiding, when feeling bereft.
And the safe place is fantasy, here in my head
but what if he's lost there, alone, full of dread?
So, will somebody find me when I do get lost
in that fantasy world into which I get tossed
when things get too frantic and life starts to blur
when emotions and feelings are given a stir
with the big spoon of madness thrust into my mind
as the frail thread of sanity starts to unwind.
Will somebody find me?
Countdown - only 29 more days to the big ATOS demo on 19th Feb 2014
This Atos kills at random, slaughtering in batches
raking in the profits and not paying any taxes.
To them you're not a person, you're just a pot of money
to fill up their deep pockets like an ant collecting honey.
There's no respect and your rights they don't exist
you're just being processed, it's pointless to resist.
'So what' if it wrecks you and makes you end your life
they'll even hold your wrist out and present you with the knife.
It really is mass murder on a large, and mindless scale
except no one gets to go to court or end up in a jail.
They say they're not responsible, the fault is really ours
it's us that is the problem with all our bloody scars.
So on the 19th we'll be shouting, right outside their door
all the names of those who've died, whilst they keep their score
of claimants they have targeted, of benefits they've chopped,
to fail the 65 percent, they think they can't be stopped.
But we'll assemble in our thousands, standing side by side
as the demo fast approaches and we gather nation wide.
And we will tell you Atos, you've pushed us just too far
you can't just hide behind him now, that Works & Pensions tsar.
We'll be posing all those questions that you won't let us ask
confronting you with all your crimes and taking you to task.
We'll name the people that have died, those tossed onto the floor
we'll drag our crippled bodies there and shout outside your door.
Click here to find out where your nearest demo is taking place.
Countdown - only 33 more days to the big Atos demo on 19th Feb 2014
The callous way they're culling us and generating fear
using us as scapegoats whilst they plunder from the rear
Using media buddies to cover up who dies
turning ordinary folk against us with their cruel, distorted lies
Creating a new underclass, something folks should fear
Telling them we're leaches, that the picture's very clear
If they want to keep their comforts and their 'happy hour' lives
then the voters all should listen if they want to win the prize
But they're the ones who're holding you, back from the milk and honey
It's the Tories who are robbing you, and taking all the money
It’s time to shake those scales off from your eyes, and start to see
To understand what’s happening; that you’re as vulnerable as me!
Click here for details about the proposed Atos protest at a Centre near you
Countdown - only 36 days to the big Atos demo on 19th Feb 2014
Jack and Jill went up the hill
to be assessed by Atos
They threw Jack down
and broke his crown
to show him who's the real boss
But Jill got mad
said this was bad
and started off an action
The flame was fanned
throughout the land
the protest just a fraction
Of what we thought
of those who sought
to cull us with their system
The blood they spill
when Atos kill
but we're the ones who'll stop them
Please click here for full details of the National Atos demonstration on the 19th February 214
But I'm more than this label (Bipolar its name)
there's a real me inside here still fanning the flame
of my creativity, my unique way
of painting a picture with words that hold sway
over your imagination, the way you construe
how we struggle to live in this world, and our view
of the way that you see us, the way that you think
that without medication we'd all surely sink.
But better to fly without your safety net
our minds spinning freely, our thoughts like a jet
of such vast comprehension, we soar through your skies
all shaking foundations and expanding your eyes.
So stuff medication, we'd rather be free
with your sensibilities tossed on our sea
of vast swirling images which, cast on the shore
can never be captured and nailed to the floor.