Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
Sometimes, even music seems futile. I recorded this show before Trump’s and Vance’s absolutely disgusting, vile, and disrespectful treatment of President Zelenskyy (more of that separately). However, when I begin… Continue Reading
Over electionless decades, America’s crematoria In the new labour camps became one of its Biggest growth industries, the country isolated From a world that would not play its racist games,… Continue Reading
Fifteen minutes to the apocalypse. He’s been waiting for this, favourite Vinyl record on the turntable. He Locks his office door, sits down on His armchair exactly halfway between Each… Continue Reading
Patina To him, when she appeared each day Just before the sun came up, and woke Him with the gentlest of touches, a Hint of a scent, she appeared solid… Continue Reading
A long time past, in What to others would have been A palace, a boy roamed the corridors, Spoilt yet neglected, told he would be Someone, something, special, shown Ledgers… Continue Reading
This is the world now. A stunned silence. Lawlessness of lawmakers. There’s no dancing in the streets Because there’s nothing to celebrate, And how can anyone celebrate fear Except those… Continue Reading
I am posting this across all my platforms. It has nothing to do with writing, and everything to do with fear. I’m not a political analyst, but we’re now at… Continue Reading
Monday is always too hectic. Here are two poems. Catching up, and catching my breath. Dice The dice still roll. The big Man at the other end of This table… Continue Reading
Where it began isn’t the back streets Nor the beer cellars nor the market places Of 1930s Germany, nor slavery or the Lazy imperialism of white men wanting More than… Continue Reading
In these days, it’s impossible to write About anything other than politics, As Trump dismantles a republic with His tech bro acolyte, and the rest of The world looks on… Continue Reading