Fate is what happens to you.
          Destiny is where your sat nav takes you.
                                                                       -  Anon

Go nought point ten miles
and then enter roundabout.

Enter roundabout
and take the second exit.

No, no, no, that wasn’t it.
Only goes to the council tip.

Drive ten yards
and make a U-turn.

Turn left… and then turn left.

Turn left.

I am TURNING left!!

Drive seven point seven point seven
miles, then take the ramp to heaven.

Saint Peter, may we drive in?



… nope.
Just having a laugh.
You’ll never get to heaven
In an old Ford car
’cos an old Ford car won’t get that far.
Make a U-turn…
drive sixty paces
and arrive at destination
fiery furnaces.

I am Beelzebub.
Welcome… to The Sat Nav Club.



A New Sat Nav

Imagine that your sat nav found the neat
way from Eton, say, to Oxford, and Downing Street
as a way of looting Middle Eastern oil
to keep your sat nav on the boil
taking sons and heirs to Privelege
cut off from the people and the soil.

But if you tapped in W-o-r-m-w-oo-d S-c-r-u-b-s
you’d go via Mean Streeton Sink Estate
and pinching caps from hubs
to petty crime and robbing banks
and you’d start getting little nods of thanks –
a sort of quantitative easing
of tension, feeling the gap decreasing -
a feeling Robin Hood would share
from his rustic woodland armchair.

A sat nav with the final goal E-q-u-a-l-i-t-y
in the county of Fr-a-t-e-r-n-i-t-y
would bypass the fatted valves of our society
and we’d purr along more ancient lanes
and find that people rather like being the same
flesh and blood as their neighbour.


Phil Burton

more poems by Philip Burton

article by Philip Burton on school poetry workshops

Philip Burton on formal verse v. free verse

free templates

Make a free website with Yola