On the subject of Poems

Plenty @ The Public Theater New York »

B.H. Fraser

November 16th, 2016.

Filed under 2016,Poems


It was all a bit of a mistake, slightly careless:

due to a mix up with the Americans

the wrong things went to the wrong place.

‘Ambassador?’  ‘What?’

‘Excellency, that was and is,’

‘Is it … slightly hopeless, I mean,

to lose an Empire due to Suez?’

‘What?’  ‘I mean, Ambassador, shall I draw the curtains?’

‘Yes, draw the curtains at the embassy.’

Fix It »

B.H. Fraser

September 21st, 2016.

Filed under 2016,Poems


No rhyme or reason

Or rationalisation

Some vague notion of globalisation:

A hairy bear will take my home and stay there.

Brexit? Is that you?

I thought, you, I mean, really? Really?

I don’t do detail, don’t care, just fix it.

While I stare at the wall

On my sunken patio.

Best Bargains »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.

Filed under Poems


Sit perfectly still and be kissed

  while sunning yourself

    beside the heat of home-made screen

           this good news, the new year brings.

                Bargains by the dozen,

                    go out visit a crowd of mad gunmen

               haunting the aisles of exploding shopping malls.

As when in irrational mood

     they spray the car park with guns and food

everyone agrees shopping is ecstasy;

    with the wildness on every person’s lips

        that speaks direct.

                I don’t care, I got here first

         with mouth pursed, kneel,

  to hear a final word: a loaded quip.


        No fire or glamour, no words or hammer


      What light is let into the empty brain ?

Is it heroin or cocaine? Or just nerve ending ?

    To pause, engage, kiss

              with this vast fix

      that we see across the sky in smiling lips.

Have I not free will to drive in, shop and kill ?

                                                To celebrate a

prosperous year for all fanatics

                                              and everyone else in any

kind of racket

                                          such as our friends in


                                  There are lots of cameras around

                              with which to spy upon us.

                            It makes them smile

                      to see all that moody heat

                  chasing deals up and down the street.

A Rotting Sun »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.

Filed under 2012,Poems


Observe the enthusiastic dead.

            Observe them.

      A carriage of them we will make

and fill their steady, boys, steady,

         with steady state.

The bodies we will make.

We tend to speculate

             on what they might have said

                         about their rotting.

                        Neither will the bugle wake them

              As the rotting sun is set

on that long day to say good-bye to all that’s good.

It’s… The Government… Stupid »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.

Filed under 2012,Poems


As we crossed a trackless plain

   directed by camera –

our only record

as we crossed a trackless plain

      directed by camera:


A cluster of legs accelerated

   numbers heated by bodies

heated by bodies

ready for the quick stamp panic attack

               of gas attack.

Repeated and played and watched

by men and women tracking us

   senior officials with senior and sensitive facts

about our lives and loves

   repeating to themselves

it was good for us to be watched

   and after the attack to conclude

there were now less of us to track.

Mykindatown »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.

Filed under 2012,Poems


Blessings on Monaco
                And all its palaces –

Particularly the one I live in

                Covered in bougainvillea.

Or the yacht I forgot to mention
                                                  Abacus 1,2,3.

Or a matter not unconnected,
                The boiling of the sea.

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