Corona Diary - August 2020
June brought truly chilling national and global levels of deaths. The World Health Organisation warned that the pandemic was now soaring globally out of control. Britain, America and Brazil - each led by deniers and procrastinators - became the three countries with the highest per capita death rates in the world. While other countries used an established ‘track and trace’ phone app to deal with the pandemic, Johnson, Cummings and co. wanted to develop a new British one which Johnson promised would be ‘world-class’. It failed to work. With utterly inadequate testing in place, we began to end the lockdown and re-open for business. Within days, Leicester had to go back into lockdown due to a huge spike in infection rates. Meanwhile, the whole of the NHS began preparing for a nationwide spike in the autumn
NOTHING TO DO WITH OUR GOVERNMENT
The weather and our government
are totally mad.
This virus and our government
are equally bad.
The make-up of our government
is conman and cad.
The world and our government
could be improved a tad.
Just recently our government’s
proved the worst we’ve had.
The ousting of our government
might make many glad.
Our care homes and our government
seem supremely sad.
The true deaths show our government
quite simply can’t add.
This new norm and our government
aren’t our mum and dad.
The far right and our government
run their white jihad.
Windrush and our government
send Brits to Trinidad.
Bollocks and our government
are more than one gonad.
​
LOUSY LEADERSHIP
Whenever we wake them from dozing
They rouse and resume just-supposing,
Then rush round, like rabbits, proposing
New rules to their ring-ring-a-rosing.
Propounded like poem or prosing,
This off-the-cuff crap they’re composing
Pours pifffle, pure these, them and thosing,
Purporting to sound so imposing.
Defended by yes-men brown-nosing
Come measures they might be imposing
To change what they are or aren’t closing,
Our lousy lives metamorphosing.
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BACK-TO-BACK
Back we’ll go to isolation.
Back to stuck in one location.
Back to that same situation.
Back to more misinformation.
Back to paralyse the nation.
Back to feels like subjugation.
Back to lonesome contemplation.
Back to silent resignation.
Back to lack of aspiration.
Back to missing conversation.
Back to vacant, not vacation.
Back to home-schooled education.
Back to year-round hibernation.
Back to pub-shut home libation.
Back to wait for vaccination.
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IDIOTS SPEAKING
There’s really no pandemic. It doesn’t exist.
It’s a government plot that we’ve got to resist.
They’re targeting our freedom, taking it away.
It’s a thought-control scam to make us all obey,
A secret foreign lab created it for sure
Just to make a fortune by selling us the cure.
They introduced lockdown to stop us from talking.
Their phone app’s there to track us when we’re out walking.
The 5G masts cause this thing, not Covid-19.
They’ve mind-reading implants to put in their vaccine.
Masks breed infections, so don’t wear them. They’re a con.
People die in hospitals. Something’s going on
Cos they’re clearing the beaches and grounding the planes.
They’ve now got machines that can alter human brains.
You’ve not got the virus if you can hold your breath.
We can live forever. There’s no such thing as death.
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EAT OUT TO HELP OUT
Discount deal to share disease
If you go out and dine.
So why care if there’s Covid there
If the food is fine?
What’s with sense of taste or smell
If you enjoy the wine?
Canker shouldn’t cause concern
If grapes are on the vine.
Why beef about the virus
If eating lamb or swine?
Why waste wisdom worrying
If out with thee and thine?
Just think about it later
If it should prove malign.
Where’s your problem? Book a table
If you’re asinine.
​
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DISTRACTIONS BEFORE YOU SPOKE
You should be a dancer. I could play the whore.
I’d be your romancer. You would know the score.
You’d be the entrancer. I’d be gifts galore.
Then came the sound of knocking…
I should be a chancer. That’s what living’s for.
I shall beat my cancer. You don’t seem so sure.
You know in advance or you’ve been there before.
There was loud knocking...
You’re a necromancer. Tell me what you saw.
Due to circumstance or maybe something more
You gave me a glance or turned to me and swore.
There was louder knocking, then you said...
“Somebody should answer. Covid’s at the door.”
​
WHAT I DO
I serve to remind you to write your will,
Play my head games with the mentally ill
And dine where you dine, yet you pay the bill.
I cause panic due to those that I kill,
Take warm flesh and then teach it how to chill
And seem to vanish although I’m here still.
I shall shop your nation to rob its till,
Steal through your bloodstream with consummate skill
And pocket more breath than a dead steep hill.
I roam freely. Stay home, you know the drill,
Swill down surfaces, mop what blood I spill
And dream of deaths that drop right down to nil.
I prove your dream is one you won’t fulfil
When I kill a load more just for the thrill
Until you dine where I dine and eat your fill.
​
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TIME
Before the virus, time ran tame,
Was safer than it then became
When Covid-19, chasing fame,
Unleashed its weapon and took aim.
Time…
Which came before the virus came,
That time before we knew its name,
Before we entered this timeframe,
A time we cannot now reclaim.
Time…
Which, lined with deaths, delivers shame
On Johnson, Trump and their selfsame
Lamentables who’ve earned the blame
For legions lost and lives left lame.
Time…
When threats were what we overcame
Until this plague burst into flame
To claim ourselves to mug, to maim,
To massacre as its endgame.
​
POOR CORONA PLEADS FOR YOUR PITY
I hate that I’m coronly
With weights of days which grownly
Gain worseness which drags dronely.
Till recently unknownly,
I’m friendless and unphonely.
I’ve no one but me only.
My miseries pour moanly,
All grizzly and groanly,
Unhidden, plainly shownly.
I loathe life on my ownly
And long for friendship clonely.
Put simply, I’m so lonely.
​
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WHEN COVID-19 IS BROUGHT BACK AS HOMEWORK
Our test and trace, once Johnson’s jewel,
Has proved piss-poor, and yet it’s cool
That kids from Liverpool to Goole,
From Newcastle to Hove and Poole,
Should all, next month, return to school.
When Johnson speaks, we hear a fool.
Were kindness needed, he’d be cruel.
If fires raged, he’d pour on fuel.
Cos care homes failed to fight his duel,
He’s now set schools as his next tool.
Yet all’s well under Johnson’s rule.
The risks, he claims, are minuscule.
But Covid’s still our global ghoul
And it will be this virus who’ll
Be first to dive in Johnson’s pool.
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BORIS EATS HIS WORDS
World-beating track‘n’trace.
Can't keep pace. Losing race.
Fall from grace. Hopeless case.
Cut to chase. About face.
World-beating track‘n’trace?
Word-eating track‘n’trace.
​
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JOB LOSS POEM
Don’t mention unemployment. Shut yer gob.
We just wanna watch Covid lose his job.
Holidays abroad, no hassle, no prob.
Masks off unless we’re going out to rob.
All we’re after’s this one thingumabob.
We just wanna watch Covid lose his job.
Party food on table, mulled wine on hob.
Biscuits out: fig roll or chocolate hobnob.
Barbecue: burger bun, corn-on-the-cob.
We just wanna watch Covid lose his job.
Balls to kick and hit. Balls to bowl and lob.
Going out dressed up, not being a slob.
Mingle, mix, mass, in a crowd or a mob.
We just wanna watch Covid lose his job.
​
CORONA’S GETTING TESTY
With every test that’s negative, corona gets upset.
He goes ‘How did I miss that one? This isn’t over yet.’
Like when he’s watching snooker. Every slip’ll make him fret.
All viruses are into sport. He likes to place a bet.
He’s keen on human suffering. He loves it when we sweat.
But losing doesn’t suit him. He perceives it as a threat.
Beware of this. He’s touchy. That’s not something to forget.
Cos he can turn unpleasant when he’s feeling badly tret.
Pretend that you’re unhealthy. Cough, and light a cigarette.
And thank him for infecting you. Make out you’re in his debt.
Don’t meet him when he’s moody. You’ll be sorry you two met.
It may be an encounter which you won’t live to regret.
​
STILL A LAZY LOCKDOWNER
Sitting pyjama’d, unshaved and smelly
Sofa’d, nursing my snax ‘n’ booze belly
Numbing myself to more daytime telly.
Curry soon due from The Shah of Delhi.
Bring that on! Gonna give it some welly.
Then a brisk walk? Nah! Not on your Nelly.
​
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SPREADING IT
Me ‘n’ our virus were sat in the pub.
I’d ordered survival. He’d ordered grub.
We were both nervous. The jukebox played dub.
Words we exchanged were the wrong way to rub,
Conversation crushed like cigarette stub.
I washed my hands of it, gave them a scrub.
Strangely though, changing from nothing to nub,
Just as if worked out by Beelzebub,
We were soon central to our social hub.
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IMPATIENCE
Our long wait for proper protection
From Covid’s cruel viral infection
Puts moods on a plunging projection.
Development demands detection
With research requiring reflection,
Inspection and detailed correction.
Please pardon our tone of dejection.
We’re urgently after direction
To a cure of any complexion.
Be it potion, pill or injection,
We’ll go with whatever selection
So long as it works to perfection.
​
UNANSWERED QUESTIONS FOR COVID-19
Is it true that you like to lurk,
To lie in shallows, shadows, murk?
If you’re the young corona Turk,
How come you’re such a joyless jerk?
To me you’re one bloodthirsty berk,
But who made you become berserk?
You claim my criticisms irk.
What’s with your smugness? Why that smirk?
Pandemics may be nature’s quirk,
But why’s the blame something you shirk?
Our deaths seem central to your work.
Are they its purpose or a perk?
​
EXAM RESULTS
Again they’d failed to make the grade.
Across the board, we saw hopes fade.
Revision notes had been mislaid.
As staff and parents grew dismayed
The simplest rules were disobeyed
While whole schools watched what games they played.
Insufficient attention paid.
Marked down once more for mistakes made.
A poor report, we’re much afraid.
With such incompetence displayed
And crucial questions to evade
As ever, answers were delayed.
No lessons learned. No teaching aid.
Predictable results re-weighed,
They’ve u-turned on their whole charade.
​
PEOPLE ARE STILL DYING
We the hunted sickbay prey
We the silent with little to say
We beneath weather grown grimly grey
Have joined this queue who shuffle and sway
Miming our final ballet.
We where hope handshakes decay
We who have dotted and dashed mayday
We with the ferryman soon to pay
Have borne these burdens we dare not weigh
Dreading dregs that they’ll betray.
We on life’s brief holiday
We with intruders in each airway
We in the wings of this cabaret
Have ceased to claim we’re still okay
Leaving little time to stay.
We fall fearful day on day
We hear three riders’ horses neigh
We with one losing hand left to play
Have watched while our world was washed away
Making mud from human clay.
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COVID’S FIRST SONG LYRIC
Bring your hungry and your thirsting
Pubs and restaurants full to bursting
Pressing crowds all me, me firsting
Where my worst is even worsting.
Waiter offering infection
Slyly I defy detection
Like a vampire, no reflection
Bring me merry mindless mingling
Jovial and joyful jingling
Gathering instead of singling
Blind to my touch mildly tingling.
I’ll be fatal, my injection
Offers only disconnection
Worming past your pale protection.
Bring that mix and start it stirring
Blurred as if I’m not occurring
I’ll be there though, slick and slurring
Cat sat on your lap and purring.
Don’t mistake this for affection
Think of me as misdirection
Your life’s up for deselection.
Bring on caution being boring
Warnings which you’re now ignoring
Even though you’ve hotspots soaring
Every risk’s a goal I’m scoring.
Suffering’s my predilection
Sod your prayers and genuflection
Death’s devoid of resurrection.
Bring me on, I’m butter spreading
Guest at barbecue and wedding
I’m the lover you’ve been bedding
New-found friend you should be dreading.
I drive in your wrong direction
Car crash at the intersection
Pins you in my corpse collection.
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COVID’S PSYCHOTIC CONFESSION
Those killings I chose to to commit
Are crimes you told me to admit.
I confess, yes, to all of it.
I do indeed deserve your crit.
Who did it? Me. I raise my mitt
While not once regretting that shit.
My fists don’t clench. My teeth won’t grit.
My fake frown makes my eyebrows knit.
I truly am a total tit.
I carry on cos I can’t quit.
I’ll wear that blame. Its cap’ll fit
This godless, gutless, ghoulish git.
Death’s delicate as Brit lit’s bit
Cos pain and pity pour from it
To paint me as its true poet.
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KILL THE RICH
We’re living through a time in which
We’ve so much to detest,
The cheapness of our chieftains who
Just shit on the oppressed,
The fact that if you’re ordinary
You’re the unwelcome guest.
In Johnson, Putin, Trump and co.
This sorry world is blessed
With being led by people who
Are wholly self-obsessed,
Concerned alone with their own wealth
In which they each invest.
If the news is not about them
They’re simply unimpressed,
Though when then told they’ve got it wrong
They’re thoroughly depressed,
Power holding onto power
Will need to be addressed.
They couldn’t give a lousy damn
About this Covid pest.
Why would they and why should they? It’s
Not in their interest.
They only care about those deaths
Which leave them a bequest.
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SUCH A SAD STORY
Pity poor Corona
It’s not easy when you’re new.
Pity poor Corona
For the chances that it blew.
Pity poor Corona
What gets said ain’t always true.
Pity poor Corona
That’s mistaken for the flu.
Pity poor Corona
When you die, it dies with you.
Pity poor Corona
Rueing everyone it slew.
Pity poor Corona
Which our vaccines will pursue.
Pity poor Corona
It’s the least that you can do.
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TRUMP CARD
Trump’s plan is to buy Britain’s Oxford vaccine
Though its unknown effect on the human gene
Will take at least a year to thoroughly screen.
And, although it’s untested, he’s still dead keen
To launch it Stateside in the nine weeks between
Now and the election, just post-Halloween.
The economy’s down, viral deaths obscene,
And half of his country is in quarantine.
So Covid has left his support looking lean.
He could become a presidential has-been.
If not, then he’s got a lot of votes to glean
Yet he doesn’t do honesty, can’t come clean.
A last-ditch lifeline. That’s what he thinks he’s seen.
This snake-oil salesman knows any ‘cure’ might mean
The trump card in his re-election machine.
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HOW COVID SCRAPPED US
Covid coolly mapped us
Picked us up and wrapped us
Cuddled and entrapped us.
Covid stood and clapped us
Took this year and gapped us
Ran its course and lapped us.
Covid’s camera snapped us
Froze us and kidnapped us
Stole our souls and sapped us.
Covid then mishapped us
Frightened us and flapped us
Wholly shat and crapped us.
Covid chafed and chapped us
Kicked and punched and slapped us
Held and handicapped us.
Covid stripped and strapped us
Ravaged and kneecapped us
Shot and stabbed and zapped us.
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IT’S ABOUT SURVIVAL
Virus views us
As mere meat and veg.
Dicing danger,
We’ve been to that edge.
Bold mountaineers,
We cling to life’s ledge.
Driven downhill,
We slalom and sledge.
As gambling fools,
We’ve bad bets to hedge.
Luck’s lost nestlings,
We’ve high hopes we’ll fledge.
Pandemic earns
Our wealthy their wedge.
Stagnant the pool
Their dark dealings dredge.
What we allege,
We’ve no time to pledge...
Virus returns
For more meat and veg.