You Can’t Pin That Rap On Me - Lyndon Queripel


You can’t pin that rap on me
I wasn’t even there
You can’t pin that rap on me
Don’t you even dare
I’m innocent don’t you see
Until I’m proved guilty
You can’t pin that rap on me
You’d better set me free

If you choose you can accuse
But I’ll defend until the end
I can answer all your questions
You’ll get no false confessions

I’m not stealing time for petty crime
Or jumping bail from your jail
Independent witness on my side
The evidence can’t be denied

You can’t pin that rap on me
I’m telling you the truth
You can’t pin that rap on me
Without a motive or some proof
Before you even try
Just check my alibi
You can’t pin that rap on me
You know it’s just a lie

There’s one law for the poor
Make a switch now for the rich
Equality for colour and creed
That’s the justice we all need

I won’t change my plea to insanity
Facts to face you’ve lost your case
With the prosecution that you’ve got
You won’t be judged if you judge not

Lyndon Queripel


La Gran’Mere Du Chimquiere - Richard Fleming



I have met your kin at Boa Island,
standing like warriors in tall grass,
pitted faces
grey as Ulster

and known a thunderclap of fear
drive down from gut to foot,
rooting me 
in charmed ground.

Gran’mere, yours is island ground
beside the churchyard gate,
a public place,
no place for ambush

yet, as I pass with dogs that cringe
and shy away from nameless harm,
the day seems darker,
far less warm.

Richard Fleming




Lockdown #2 - Stephen A. Roberts



I shielded I hid I cowered
While all around me Corona flowered
I tried to ignore that obscene weed
By focussing on my own need
I sat I wrote I thought
I read I watched I panic bought
I clapped I cried
For those that died
I stayed I prayed
For those afraid
I scoured everything in a search for truth
Listened to the music from my youth
I saw the heroes and the hypocrites
The isolated and ignored, in bits
Without surprise I watched the numbers rise
The politicians bluster and scientists surmise
I Facebooked, Zoomed and Skyped
I found new recipes that celebs had hyped
I online shopped while people dropped
Yet all around, the world had stopped
We had to hide
I sympathised
Shielded and powerless, I began to write
Of the end of days
And our old ways
Gone into the night
Just like before
There’ll still be war
Visible and invisible
Beating at our door
Together we can beat
Cancer or is it China
But can we slay That covid one-niner...
Surely this isn’t reality
Bring back normality
I want my Weetabix
My Purple Bricks
Some cheap Tesco fizz
With a daytime TV quiz
I don’t know how to feel
Where’s my package deal
A cruise appeals
With all inclusive meals
Cheap including flights
Stay there 7 nights
Maybe a villa way out of sight
Bathed in an ethereal light
Somewhere I can touch your face
Far away from Track and Trace
But the truth is this
Let’s tell and kiss
Like so many fools
I didn’t break the lockdown rules
I didn’t go on the motorway
Where I couldn’t see my way
I did everything they told me to
I’ll ride the second wave with you.

Stephen A. Roberts


Famous? - Kathy Figueroa




Famous?  I guess I have been, to a degree
And could be more so, except that I’m low key
On social media, I don’t strive for a million friends
Outliers like me often buck the trends

My poems and pictures are published here and there
These creative endeavours I’m always glad to share
But though my work is known in many a distant place
Most folks undoubtedly wouldn’t recognize my face

Some artists and writers strive to cultivate fame
But basking in the limelight isn’t my aim
I’ve things to do, dreams to dream, and words that rhyme
Blank pages await my pen ...for chasing fame I have no time

Kathy Figueroa


I Have This Gift - Tony Bradley




Well, it could be more of a failing
to be honest, I’m not really sure
I can wait in queues, at the bus stop, or the doctors
sometimes for 30 minutes, for an hour, or more

Whilst some may pace up and down, or fidget,
others play with their phones, or tutt, or curse
I call to mind, my latest, "work-in-progress"
an embryonic poem, gets another verse.

Tony Bradley

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