So the tories won

and they think the war is done,

that we will beat a retreat,

accept the web of lies they spun

to inflict a shock defeat.

Who am I to advise or criticise?

Just a working guy

with words to say

and the tears of my peers to cry.

I have no power,

no wealthy friends

to bail me out in my hour of need

but I mean to raise awareness

how we expect respect and fairness,

and will fight on to the end

for human rights you’d take away.

Some insist the vote was fixed.

I don’t.

But the odds were stacked

with your dirty tricks

executed by right wing pricks and hypocrites

who control our great free press

like quicksand to the truth.

Yes, the masses were duped,

but we’re not all stupid

and we’ll be watching you.

There’s only so much we can take

don’t make the mistake of thinking

our tolerance is unshakeable.

Strip one more bit of dignity

from the old, the sick, the underprivileged

use austerity to trample us deeper in the shit

and you’ll find there is a lesson to be learned

about how injustice burns,

and the price you’ll have to pay

when the worm has finally turned.

Our forebears fought for what we’ve got.

We voted, and we lost.

But heed these words.

We’re nowhere near ready to sit idly by

and watch you steal the lot.


The trouble with branching out…

Lol… the trouble with being a poet who has written mostly from personal experience, when you start to get the confidence to write as a fictional character some people are shocked and think you are actually just showing yourself in your true colours.

Oh well.


The guy in the corner-
on his own
with a smile outgrown by solitude.

You know the one.
On Facebook he’s mouthy, opinionated
sometimes witty
his passion for fun and conversation
never sated.
That’s just low self esteem overcompensated.

Now exposed to the world he’s feeling shitty
that he cannot interact like you, with you,
because the past is like a magnet
attracting all the complicated thoughts
out of their blankets,
the beliefs installed by so many trusted people
in so many ways
they never seem to go away
but keep repeating what they say, day after day.

He’s not stuck up, but it’s difficult to open up
when so conditioned to put downs and insults
that even a smile can be misconstrued
as a prelude to a verbal assault.

He wants to mix, but there’s no quick fix
to the legacy of selfish pricks
who made him what he is….

seeing himself as a blank page
among a shelf full of classics
a failed firework in a sky full of stars
a speck of dust in Jurassic Park
a worthless relic to be kept in the attic
who longs to join the action
instead of watching from afar.

(Published by I Am Not A Silent Poet)

You tube

I can now be found on Youtube as CliveOsemanPoet

Here is my surreal poem Dreamers  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaOKi2aGPhg

Please feel free to share any of my videos!


Welcome to the one night tour of Dreamland
No cameras, thank you. Notebooks, too, are banned.
You’ll think you’ll remember it anyway,
but when the night gives way to day
it’s fair to say it disappears without delay.
Waking takes the meaning
and strips it from its context
like ninety year old virgins talking sex,
forgetting what it is and getting vexed
and you’ll just remember snippets, nothing more

like when you tripped over
a prostrate drunken unicorn
dressed in a policewoman’s uniform
(the unicorn, not you you fool)
at the very moment your Great Aunt Ethel
sprouted devil’s horns on the way to school.

It all made sense in the present tense
when all the scenes were strung together-
like 15 pink Dalmations in the shower
dressed in leather

singing “We will love Cruella forever”.

It amuses me…

well little things please little minds-
I looked at my thing and yelled
with pride a thousand times,

very loudly,

knowing it must be a dream
because I’m massively
endowed with an imagination
to make any dreamer proud….



enough of that

if you’ve ever had dreams like these
where your number twos were as long as snooker cues
and the church had cello playing llamas in its pews
then clearly you’re a nut job too

we’ll get along fine will me and you.


Yes, I’m an addict.
But I’m cool with it.
I don’t want to quit
or even cut it down a bit.
I wear the label on my sleeve
and can’t quite believe
I steered clear for so long
when so many mates were doing it.

Yes, the side effects
are temporarily unpleasant
but that brief moment
they are present
in no way counteracts the buzz
because this is something
so fundamental to my needs
I was dead before I took the plunge.

I shake, I sweat, my heart races in my chest

I briefly fight it
but deep down I know
there’s nothing like it.
This is what defines me now.
I can’t go back to where I was
in all those years of anonymity.
I know now where I want to be
that I was born to perform