Bob Beagrie – Ship of Fools

Ship of Fools

When the man with the badge
Relishes the power that it gives
When the man with the spin
Forgets that its paper thin
When the man with the capital
Condemns the one with little
When the sanctions take a bite
Into those who most need care
When the law plays lip service
To faded colours of privilege
When a redefinition of welfare
Is used to profiteer on the poor
When a chance of revolution
Is re-enacted to sell Christmas
When we charge our children
For what we received for free
We’ve stumbled off the map
Into an unfamiliar country
Pretending the words we use
Are somehow fixed to things
Like this ship, that shore
Like home, like us and them

Bob Beagrie  lives in Middlesbrough, has published five collections of poetry to date and is a Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing at Teesside University.

Bob Beagrie – Between the Kingdoms of Beginnings & Ends

Between the Kingdoms of Beginnings & Ends
(after Immanuel Kant & David Cameron)

We must return the principle
of free movement to what is reasonable.

If only we dwelt wholly in the intelligible world
we’d possess a perfectly free, autonomous will

Yet here in The Kingdom of Beginnings
each of us sit in a car of a ghost train
driven by the pulse of a vegetable desire
to thrive, to multiply at the expense of all

and ask, “Daddy, are those skeletons real?”

During the ride we come to realize
our sensible selves only through simulations,
assuming the world is governed by natural laws,
chained to the track of cause and effect.

There is a need to tackle free movement abuse.
We must return the principle of free movement
to what is reasonable.

But a chair is an object in the phenomenal world
on which to sit or on which not to sit –

I’ve no idea what it is in the noumenal world,
a table, a small shelf for spare books, firewood,
a step on which to stand to fit a light bulb?

But is it an act of moral freedom to sit in this chair
if you’re work weary and your legs are sore?

Or is it a true act of freedom to sit in that chair
in the phenomenal world only without
the natural desire to rest, being certain you
lack any pre-causal imperative to do so?

and ask, “Daddy, am I but a ghost of the past?”

Yet here in the Kingdom of Ends
we are all heavenly bodies pirouetting
on the tiptoe of one foot balanced on the head
of a noumenal pin, in sheer control of our will

free from the critical imperative or desire
to tackle free movement abuse.

 

 

 

 

Bob Beagrie  lives in Middlesbrough, has published five collections of poetry to date and is a Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing at Teesside University.
 

 

Bob Beagrie – Blake’s Head

Blake’s Head

‘Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, looking so draggled, and she was frightfully sorry for Peter. “How awful!” she said, but she could not help smiling when she saw that he had been trying to stick it on with soap. How exactly like a boy!’

J.M. Barrie

The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man.’

Proverbs from Hell – William Blake
As is the searing song of the ragged angel
perched in the crotch of your favourite tree
as you wander homeward, taking a short cut
round the boating lake after a night of excess,
when the wallpaper became the first forest,
the rug an ocean, the fiery eyes of the cat
that sat on your chest were twin spiral galaxies.

As is the rampant savage under the veneer
of the fragile order of a mirrored self, smiling
through the lightening ripples of surface tension,
unbroken by the oiled, iridescent head feathers
of early feeding mallards, clacking at the passing
of your thin shadow, stretched out before you
on the tarmac, straining to the point of tearing.

 

 

Bob Beagrie  lives in Middlesbrough, has published five collections of poetry to date and is a Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing at Teesside University.