5 poems from “Gain of Function” by Peter Hague

Dogs of Any War

War sneaks up on you like a dog. 
It won’t tell you who wags its tail, 
or who calculates the angle of its ears. 
It will be financed to include death on all sides. 
Later, you will entertain its guest presence 
at the solemn remembrance.
It will spit in your eye.

If only we could be free of these demagogues 
who stir the controls of high office – 
devoid of skill, practice or purpose – 
the latest Sonny Jim with an army up his sleeve.
Men without insight – men without eyesight. 
They turn up for lunch and dine on your patience – 
they farm the discord of your own bitter hatred, 
then spit in your eye.


©Copyright 2020 Peter Hague. 
All rights reserved.

The Queen of Bees

As she walked the streets, the zealous bees 
flew in and out of her extensive pockets. 
Some thought it monstrous – others pitied her. 
Some thought it tragic – while others blamed magic. 

Most people threw coins into an upturned hat 
she had glued to her hair, using spoonfuls of honey. 
Never once thinking – The Queen of all Bees – 
should be scarce of money. 


©Copyright 2020 Peter Hague. 
All rights reserved.


A Trail of Feathers

Humans hurt humans 
and restrict everything else.
Yet cats are licensed 
to wander in furtive cycles – 
the strides and stops – 
the ranging eyes. 
The guilty pleasure 
of frowned upon blood. 

Loved by humans, 
they are obliged to linger, 
choosing the killing fields 
of leaves and lawns. 
Stalking communities 
of local birds – 
plotting their version 
of human atrocity. 


©Copyright 2020 Peter Hague. 
All rights reserved.

Bandwagons are Ignorance

The clamour of the bandwagon –   
its banners and its burning flags,  
is soon to fail – on tired ears. 
Its confrontation drives the wedge 
that sends the party home. 

It wallows in a threatened peace 
within disowned, disabled minds, 
where frustration, time and fake tv, 
hold us hostage to false belief. 

But we are permanent individuals here, 
not needing to weep on gathered shoulders – 
the world won’t spin our barren way 
because we slide on the blood 
of expedient injustice. 

It won’t listen, beyond that first wave 
of blind, hollow ignorance – 
where the loudest unskilled voice 
chimes only for the bitter crumb 
of redundant apology.


©Copyright 2020 Peter Hague. 
All rights reserved.

The Way of Paranoia

If you develop eyes 
in the back of your head 
they will only serve 
to dement your courage. 
They will introduce thoughts 
that blister and distract – 
that follow and question – 
reproach and chide.

Set your gaze forward 
to binocular distance. 
Develop a camouflage 
for the sacks of your flanks. 
It will deny the suspicion 
of psychotic persistence – 
deny the endurance 
of neurotic scrutinies.

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