On the Road to Brexit Day (On the Road to Mandalay)

By the old White Cliffs of Dover, lookin’ lazy at the sea,

There’s a blonde British PM sitting, and I know he thinks of me:

For the wind is in the shit house and the church-bells they say:

“Come you back, you British people, come you back to Brexit Day!”

Come you back to Brexit Day,

Where the old Blighty lay:

Can’t you  ‘ear their polio callin’ from the Toon to Robin Hoods Bay?

On the road to Brexit Day

Where the far-right play,

And the dawn comes up like chunder outta Spoons ‘cross the way!


His suit was blue, and his smart shirt was green,

His name was Boris Johnson, and he lied to the Queen,

I saw him first a-smokin’ on a whackin’ white cheroot,

Taking precious millions, for an Eton idle’s loot

Bloody idle, made of lies

What they called Bojo, a PM with shit ties

Plucky git, he cares for the riches, not for what the nation cries!


On the road to Brexit Day….


When the mist was on the Channel and the sun was dropping low,

He got out his little harp and Rule, Britannia was hummed slow

And now begins his reign, won from shameless feign

The kiss of power on his cheek, let’s hope he ends up in the creek

What about the date of a Russia Report leak?


On the road to Brexit Day….


He thinks his past is behind him- long ago and far away

And there ain’t no running from the EU about Brexit Day

And he’s here in London, in No.10, what the fucking hell:

“If you’ve the Russians calling, you won’t never need naught else.”

No! you won’t need nothing else

But them easy tax cut wins

And the economy is in the shithouse with those oh so English bells;


On the Road to Brexit Day….


There’re people sick and dying on those paving stones,

And the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;

Though I walks through Saudi money from Chelsea to the Strand,

And the PM talks a lot of loving, but what do they understand?

Beefy face and grubby and-

What do they understand?

There’s a neater, sweeter leader in a cleaner, greener land!


On the Road to Brexit Day…


Ship me somewhere south of Lewes, where the best is like the worst,

Where there aren’t no Conservative Party, and a man can raise a thirst;

For the church-bells are calling, and it’s here I must be

By the old White Cliffs of Dover, looking lazy at the sea;

On the Road to Brexit Day

Where the old Blighty lay:

Can’t you ‘ear their polio callin’ from the Toon to Robin Hoods Bay?

On the road to Brexit Day

Where the far-right play,

And the dawn comes up like chunder outta Spoons ‘cross the way!



I am not lost

Trying to catch my thoughts

They spin

Like needle & groove

Capitulating in perfect harmony

To evade my quiet heart


So I smoke and smoke

Watching my dreams

Drift away in the air

And my memories

My memories begin to sing


They tell me

Of all the pleasure

All the pain

I have chased

Longing for an escape


In the past I must not dwell

Long have my ghosts

Tried to seduce me back

Haunting my present with their nightly presence


Day breaks and they are banished to the dark

With a melody so melancholy

It will turn your very soul

My past will not be present as my future grows


Or at least until sleep scratches at your door

And the ghosts fade

In their cyclical rage

While I am shut in behind my eyelids


When the demons come to play

I will fight with a light that

Invokes the essence of my being

And repeat the mantra

I am not lost,

I am not lost




Cold, dark and moody her face did shine

At the cold steps of his disgrace;

Lost in the snow, away in her mind

No more could she relate

She had to leave it all behind;

His emotions she could not translate

Tears warmed her cheers to remind

Her time was not to waste

Her heart she had to unwind

Years would not go by in haste;

To the tangled memories weaved, that two hearts designed

Time to pack her case

Her future more refined

Solidarity with herself she will find.

Daily Rants

Silently my words fall upon the dawn

I’ve been writing all night with fervent delight

My mind hollows itself through this pen

The echoing thoughts that reverberate

Evolving the emotion that spills from my head


To articulate

To express

To explore

To implore


Even when you think you’re going crazy performing

Soliloquies to yourself

At 3am

This poetic ego will not stop


This energy

That sends my mind

Up to the highest heights

And the lowest lows

Can all be contained

On a page

To gauge an emotion

To the devotion of words

And what they embolden


What is hidden in fear

Will one day hold you

In prose

In between your warm toes

As you sit in the bath


To let go

Through the nib of a pen

And relish what the ink releases


Similes create serotonin

Superlatives hold the truth

Contradiction and alliteration

Subjectives and suffixes


That indicate the infinite

Repentances through sentences

For all of your sins

For all of your loves

For all of your dreams floating up above

Your daily existence

Imagination is limitless

Reality is what ground us

As we search for meaning

In these murky streets


This pre Brexit landscape

Chimes with the bells of dystopia

Wicked in this dawn light

Industry churns

Economy burns

The vulnerable yearn

The greedy never learn

In their blinded, self inflicted

Struggles Sisyphean


And the words, the words just keep coming

As the political class

Spout chaos in spasms

Widening future chasms

Of war

In the name of the free market

They are all con artists

Bleak is the mid winter they said

Bleaker still is the shattered future we see


These rants scurry across lined paper like ants

Testament and paramount to the poise of a pen

That lets the healing power begin

I am not lost on a page

Take my hand

I’ll show you what is within

Fuck it

I’ll share my story

As if we were kin

While the kings and queens

Wage for our dreams

Our culture can forge the future

The elected forgot the neglected

And Britain’s Brexit is burning bright


I can’t get away from the news

As populism looms in sight

And the masses shudder with uncertainty and urgently

Worry what is to come

Will nothing relieve us

Of the sins of our fathers

My solace is contained on this page

An emotional stage

Where humility kisses vanity

And our egos mock us with a grin


The world just keeps on turning

And the page springs eternal

Opinions can be expressed

A day can be relayed

In a snippet


As this poem

Has just done here

This rant is over.


 © Jack Nugent


Grey dawns and routine yawns

The beeping from the rubbish truck mingles with the sound of my boiling kettle

Caffeine to wake the senses

While the radio plays the soft trumpets of Primal Scream


Here’s to the rubbish collectors and early risers


The 7am tooth brushers

The make-up applying bus riders

The silent line of oaps at the chemist

The street sweepers and office cleaners


The overworked class

By the end of the day it’s all done

Trudging home to fester in front of a flickering TV

Grabbing my attention like a moth to a flame


Aldi or Lidl? That’s my choice for booze and discount food

Buying paint stripping kidney rotting juice

On Friday afternoons

The integral part to that fleetingly glorious night of the week


 © Jack Nugent



Sand blows atop the dunes.

My lover’s voice is lost in the wind;

The vast stars shine above us,

A lizard scuttles by.


The waves of our love soak the endless sands;

A spark in the night.


Hand in hand we criss-crossed with nocturnal creature’s footprints.


We slept under rugs in a nomad’s tent.

Curled close,

The moon turned the sand cold;

The fire lost its use.


We searched each other’s bodies for warmth,

And found it in the desert silence.

Watching the sun return;

The morning rays shone love.


Years later,

In times of solace

That night keeps me warm.


© Jack Nugent


I stand in an open field with the sun on my face

My arms are outstretched towards the sky

The wind moves lazily about my knees, stirring the long grass

A single white rose grows at my feet

It encompasses all my dreams and fears


 © Jack Nugent

Endless Possibilities

The endless drawl of planes above, mathematically guided to their destinations
Bound in an endless loop cleaving the sky in transitory bliss
A hiss of engines, a whine of wind
How long will we glide too far off lands searching for something that’s inside us
We mistakenly forgot that the power lies with us
That can lead to beautiful moments of endless tranquilities

We create screaming demons and baneful angels
Silhouetting as unknown shadows in the deep recesses of our minds
Occasionally masquerading as devilish nightmares and delicate fantasies
Invading our thoughts complicating our beautiful psychologies
Distorting and intrinsically fragmenting into echoes of the servile self
Crescendoing cacophonies of emotion spill seamlessly
Our identities pervade it, losing out on all sensibility.

We are kings, we are queens, and we are saints and sinners
The realist and the surrealist, the good and the bad, the clever and the naïve
The compassionate and the jealous, the ambitious and the competitive
The sensitive and the hurtful, the part and the whole
Yourself and ourselves, simultaneously.

 © Jack Nugent

The Beginning of Something

I am still at a loss for words as to how you’ve caused me such wonder

In such a little spell;

Maybe your feminine magic has been weaved so well,

That I fall into your arms and could indefinitely dwell;

Nestled in your wholesome bosom listening to the rhythm in your chest,

All day I could rest this way until the sun sets in the west, at our bodies behest.

Your chestnut curls adorn the bed and whorl the worries from my head;

There is a bond in fondness

And all I know is I am bloody fond of you.


© Jack Nugent