•May 24, 2020 • Leave a Comment



I‘m too Ugly

for Tik Tok

the Algorithms tell me,

as they delete me from the Public Feeds.

Too Ugly,

too Angry,

too Poor,

too Old,

My ancient, wrinkled face

might frighten children.

My Opinions might scare off

Investors & Consumers.

I simply don’t fit into their Format

of a shiny, plastic Reality

where everyone is Forever Young

and living in a K-Pop Video

even as our Cities

crumble around us

and the Earth dies by inches.


I’m too Ugly for Tik Tok

the Algorithms tell me,

and yes,

they are right.



Don’t forget to check out “NOMAD” the latest single from Reverend Hellfire and his pals, the Tapeloops. Just click on the cover photo below to hear it on your preferred platform.

Hope you all like it.


The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet, Prophet

and unlicensed Plague Doctor.

Get your Buboes lanced today!

Ask about our Leech Special!


PARA-BULL; Early Bird & the Night-Owl

•May 17, 2020 • Leave a Comment


The Early Bird & the Night-Owl


Once Upon a Time (etc., etc.,)

a virtuous, clean-living Early Bird

arose at Dawn and promptly caught the Worm,

who was still sluggish from the Winter cold

and thus easy prey.


So far so good.

Early Bird Gets the Worm?

Ironically however, the Early Bird itself

was devoured shortly thereafter

by a battered, disgraceful, old Tom Cat

who, after Partying & Fighting & F**king all night long,

had been returning to his human home for a 12 hour nap.

This feline Falstaff in Fur,

a meowling Minion of the Moon,

pounced quickly on the unwary Early Bird,

who was too busy preening & posing & singing

about how clever it was getting up so early

to go hunter-gathering, to notice

that it was about to become Breakfast,

both Literally and Metaphorically.

Are You a Night Owl Or an Early Bird? | Morgan McKinley Recruitment

And so, with a full belly and a clear conscience,

this disgraceful old Night-Owl of a Tom Cat

went home to sleep in his favourite comfy armchair,

the very picture of purring Innocence itself.


There are no Morals in Nature.




Don’t forget to check out “NOMAD” the latest single from Reverend Hellfire and his pals, the Tapeloops. Just click on the cover photo below to hear it on your preferred platform.

Hope you all like it.


The Reverend Hellfire,

Performance Poet, Prophet & practising Plague Doctor.

Well Bred. Well read.


NOMAD -New single release & lyrics

•May 10, 2020 • Leave a Comment

Comes the latest musical release from 

Reverend Hellfire & the TAPELOOPS ,


Addictive as Sugar, bitter as Myrrh.

An ancient, hypnotic, minimalist Hymn

walking Wordlines and Songlines

of forgotten Ancestral Landscapes.

Dreamtime Figures awaken, and shaking off the sand,

go stumbling drowsily across the Desert

creating new Legends in their passing,

leaving their mark upon the Land,

 ploughing like bulldozers through the Dunes..

We are all Nomads.

Join the Journey




We are all Nomads..


Where is my Shaker?

Where is my Spear?

Where is my Tribe,

I’ve got no idea.

I’ve been walking

Two Thousand years

Think I lost Them

Somewhere back there.

Where is my Culture?

Where is my Race?

Where is my Language?

Sunk without trace.

Lost like a Nomad

in the City,

Half Cosmopolitan,

Half Refugee.

Where is my Future?

Where is my Past?

As for the Present,

It didn’t last.

Where is my Ritual?

Where is my Art?

Deep in the Dreaming,

Here in my Heart.

Available now at all good Music Downbload Sites!



The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet, Prophet & unlicensed Plague Doctor.

They seek him here, they seek him there.



•May 3, 2020 • Leave a Comment



Co-Dependency & Co.,

Welcome to the Firm!

Always good to take a new partner on

to share the blame

or a loyal Lieutenant to take the Rap.


a Limited Liability Clause

is just a Loophole

looking for a Rat.

Indeed, in this regard, our whole Legal System

is based on a strong foundation

of Diminished Responsibility.

The Company exists to take the Fall

while the CEO is just someone who worked there,

like “Gerry” at the Front Desk

or the guy who emptied the bins.

Indeed in some States

a Corporation is actually considered

to be an Individual before the Law,

although, regretfully,

they have yet to hang one.

On an International level,

Economic Co-dependency has replaced

Mutually Assured Destruction

as the preferred Deterrent to prevent

all-out Nuclear Armageddon replacing

the endless, simmering proxy-wars

fought out in Third World countries

by the major Power Blocs.

(Worst come to worst

at least the Property Damage

would be considerably reduced)

The Gordian Knot of “Free Trade”

has entangled the Nations of the World

with Iron bands of Belt & Road

and none may escape,

nor none may ask:

Who owns the Debts?

Who pulls the Strings?

Who weaves the Web?

What Spiders Feast?


For the Nation States of today, it seems,

Self Reliance, if not Self Determination

are Quaint Artifacts of an Economic Philosophy

from the dawning of Proto-Capitalism‘s

Pre-Dynastic Period.

Of interest to Antiquarians perhaps

but there’s no room

in the modern share-holder’s portfolio

for these increasingly redundant Concepts.

From past experience I must confess

that back in my own chemically

co-dependent days,

Relationship-wise I always found it best

to work with Women

who’d “crack” before I did.

Not enough “Moral Fortitude”, I’d sniff

pompously, or possibly

it was just a question

of Body Mass in proportion to Dosage,

but be that as it may..

Then I could play at being Morally Superior

for holding out ten seconds longer

and could ride my High Horse

(and it was a very High Horse)

all the way Home!

I know.

It was low.

But, swings-and roundabouts, it

all-comes-out-in-the-Wash &

other expressions

of shared culpability and

criminal conspiracy ultimately

balanced the Scales,

and later I would feel guilty

and write an Apology Poem.

Thus the Circle would be complete

and we could start the whole

mind-numbing process again the next day,

with a clean, if somewhat smudged, plate..

Holmes & Watson; the original co-dependent couple.



(An Apology Poem)

I said Neigh!

But was led astray!

They fed me Hay!

Or was it Grass?

At any rate

I am an Ass.

Oh Pretty Lass!

Give me a Pass!




The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Prophet, Performance Poet & Plague Doctor.

No House Calls.



•April 26, 2020 • Leave a Comment


The Trump Toad Canvas Print by odes_sa | Society6



Fouling the Waters

A Monstrous Toad

President Trump, I presume?


Are there really more crows and ravens in the Bay Area?



How I wish the Human Race

had a single face..

for me to spit in.



The Reverend Hellfire is a former practised Performance Poet from the “Before Time”, now fossicking amongst the rubble mounds & radio-active slag heaps of the Post Apocalyptic War-Zone he currently inhabits.

Grows his own Penicillin.



•April 19, 2020 • Leave a Comment



Two Brothers in Mexico

were trying to save Butterflies

from Extinction,

(a magnificent migration

of millions that each year

sought the shrinking mountain forests.)

when Gangsters shot each of them

in the back of the head

and dumped their bodies in the desert.

The Forests were Drug Cartel Turf,



“I want Justice!”

their Mother cried

before the Media Camera Swarm

fluttering & clustering around her.

Not in this World,

I said sadly to the screen,

here Justice is just a Net

with too many holes..


So I went for a walk,

and wandered down

to the Paper-bark Swamp

in the damp, dark Gully,

behind my cabin.

Malaleuca (Paperbark) trees, North Stradbroke Island, Queensland ...

Paused on the twisting path a moment

to let a Serpent pass before me,

(Secretive Guardian of the Swamp

slow slithering with silent dignity)


entered a small clearing

ringed with the tilting trunks

of the ghostly Paper-barks

white as clay,

raggedy with peeling bark

and festooned with ancient vines,



all the dark foliage

around me seemed to explode!


The leaves went flapping off the trees

into the air, swirling around me,

forming & reforming

a dizzying, ever-shifting Corona

of Black & Azure Blue!

Yes, what at first I had taken to be leaves

were in fact Butterflies,

millions of “Blue Tigers“,

that had been resting quietly

on every twig and stem,

on every vine and trunk.

It was a magickal moment alright.

Never before had I seen so many

Butterflies in the old Swamp,

or indeed, anywhere else,

and the ability to have them

all take flight at once

and swirl around me

merely by clapping my hands,

was a truly exhilarating experience

that set my Laughter roaring,Spirits soaring

all around the Swamp!


Here and there one hapless insect

dangled in a web, tis true,

or lay broken on the ground,

but the Swarm danced on, undiminished.

Why had they gathered Now

and Here, in this dark moment,

I wondered,

manifesting before me

when my my mind

was filled with thoughts

of Butterflies and Dread?


I do not know,

but for what it’s worth;

Here lieth (I think) the Lesson;

One dies.

Others arise.

The Flight continues.



The Reverend Hellfire is a renowned Pestilence Poet

& unregistered Plague Doctor.

Get your Buboes palpated today!

Try our Homeopathic Leech Therapy!


The Terrified Horses of History

•April 12, 2020 • Leave a Comment

The Terrified Horses of History

You see them portrayed, again and again.

Eyes rolling in Terror, Nostrils flared,

rearing up against the brutal bridle & bit,

flanks scarred from the lashing whip,

the Victim & Witness of Human Savagery,

the Terrified Horses of History.

This Meme or Motif recurs many times

down the long years

in all those portraits & paintings

of Great Generals & Kings.

From Alexander the Great

to Napoleon the Midget

an accusing Equine Eye stares out

at the Beholder

of mosaics, oil-paintings and prints

and asks,

“Why am I here?!

Why are you making me do this?”.

I’ll tell you something else you’ll see

in all those vast, Canvas monstrosities

you find infesting Presidential Mansions & Museums,

(swollen like Sails with their own Self-Importance)

the one’s Emperors commission to commemorate

their Days of Victory, Pomp & Triumph;

always one Horse with a cynical, mocking eye

will be looking back out of the pack

of great, ham-hocked hacks

prancing beneath Princes & Prelates

complacently reviewing the troops

about to Die. (Or those that survived.)

One lone, mute, incredulous Animal Witness,

giving you “the Wink”,

and laughing itself hoarse

at the Folly and Futility

of Human Pretensions.


Now, Artists down the long Ages

are mostly all the same,

though Anarchists at Heart

still they know the Game;

“If you’re painting a portrait

on a Contract basis,

you’d best produce a product

to your Masters’ Tastes.”


So generally there is not a lot of room

for Self-Expression, or “Prophets of Doom”.

Like Pacifists, Cowards or other Doubters,

the Artist would be Drawn..

then thoroughly Quartered.

So the Client’s Ego must be stroked,

but peering through the battle’s smoke,

one equine eye winks at the Joke.



The Reverend Hellfire was a practised Performance Poet,

back in the Before Time.

Now he stalks the empty streets, a lone Spectre

chanting his Poetry to Ghosts. 

Rats scurry amongst the shadows.

Vines tear at the crumbling buildings.