On the subject of Poems

In the Beginning: California »

B.H. Fraser

December 1st, 2020.

Filed under 2020,Poems


In what seemed a time interminable

This is how the world ‘beginned’.

Let it describe it –

Had the start and no sin.

If you stumble around darkness,

It can be quite harmless.

In tints of Eden, sketches,
We was completely liquid.

Shadows but happier

Completely innocent.  We was.

We hadn’t learnt to spell or think.

To be precise we ‘knowed’ nothing.

Hadn’t put pen to ink

Or even tried to.

Space, collision
Me and Me in conversation.

A big bang,

Quite a picnic.

And what of the budded stem?  Gravity?

All things to all them.

Until the sun cames up

And everything was bright.

Even the restroom but not quite, not quite.

And all the loving I could ever have

In one night

Came from the California light.

Wall Street »

B.H. Fraser

November 1st, 2020.

Filed under 2020,Poems



Your ears, your face,

all soon will be blessed with giant squid.

A vampire in sucking cup,

eight arms and tentacles full of blood.

About being mounted on a stalk,

the suctions, when they get you, almost talk.

In circumference lined with hellish teeth,

the mouth strange parrot-like, something of a leech.



Guard your home against this tick,

It does not share your bread for all to benefit.

A big sponge in the deep,

our squid communes with government

to tell us what to think.

Getting the all clear at Gwennap Head: August 2020 »

B.H. Fraser

October 1st, 2020.

Filed under 2020,Poems


    Not from a Cove or Ovid

There came the news from Cornwall,

   But infernal Covid

That life was almost normal

Drone »

B.H. Fraser

September 1st, 2020.

Filed under 2020,Poems


Travelling in shadow


with message ready


to unleash


the chaos of hell: a battlefield.

Every word explosive,

all sides tremble.


Man, you wouldn’t believe it,


we jumped off, super tourist,

(staying seated naturally)

with a switch to


voices of




How friendly.


With noise intimate,

A hissing song

a tremble

of text.



A bloody snap of paper

(Attention!  Postcard!)

As butcher bird appears



With something

much more personal.

“Contact” –


licked clean, perfect


by the blast.

A pause.


Execution perfect


in the high altitude of killing


only the “wish you were here” missing.

For an extra twenty »

B.H. Fraser

August 1st, 2020.

Filed under 2020,Poems


At the harvest fellowship,

We believe in one vision, a holy, most almighty, GIVER OF THINGS.



BEING A Maker of money,

Our kind of salvation by the power of television. Hallelujah.

So make money.

I guess this preacher JUST got blessed and became famous. AMEN. HALLELUJAH.

And our kingdom shall have no end.

Did I tell you about the profits we’re making?

You gotta believe but keep it tight with the insurance.

I shall probably get crucified but that adds to the premium.

And my kingdom shall have no end.

Believe in me as the giver of heaven

Who CAN pull them in.


Troop Withdrawal »

B.H. Fraser

July 1st, 2020.

Filed under 2020,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.

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