Poetry

Poetry

It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care to act,
it starts when you do it again after they said no,
it starts when you say we and know who you mean,
and each day you mean one more.

Marge Piercy

See what life is like: an interview with Dorothy Spencer
Thursday, 26 November 2020 10:45

See what life is like: an interview with Dorothy Spencer

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in Poetry
Fran Lock interviews Dorothy Spencer, an editor at Lumpen journal, writer, poet and mental health worker. Her first collection, See What Life is Like was published by Lumpen this year. Her writing explores everyday tragedies; addiction, love, loneliness, and the absurd banality of late consumer capitalism. Hi Dorothy, and thanks…
Naked under 10,000-watt lightbulbs
Wednesday, 25 November 2020 09:50

Naked under 10,000-watt lightbulbs

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Naked under 10,000-watt lightbulbs by Fred Voss We machinistsare lucky to have our machinesmachine handles we can grab when we are lonely green steel machine sides we can hide behind when we feel guilty or ashamedsteel machine tables we can drop 100-pound machinist vises onto and green steel machine headswe…
Prime Minister's Questions
Friday, 20 November 2020 15:50

Prime Minister's Questions

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in Poetry
Prime Minister’s Questions by Rob Walton, with image by Martin Gollan Are there any other countries you’d like to break?If you grow it out a bit, would you like me to cut it into a bob?Do you miss the good old days of racist newspaper columns?Is the dandruff cultivated to…
What is Present: History, by John Berger
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Tuesday, 17 November 2020 10:29

What is Present: History, by John Berger

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David Betteridge writes about the poem 'History' What interests me about the existence of archives is that you enter the past which is as it were in the present tense. And so it’s another way of people who lived in the past who perhaps are still living or perhaps are…
Shakespearean Tragedy
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Tuesday, 17 November 2020 09:38

Shakespearean Tragedy

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Shakespearean Tragedy by Martin Rowson, with image by Martin Gollan They've painted King Lear Orange! He's mad as mad can be! Divides the state! Will Ivanka Be given Tennessee? They've painted Hamlet Orange! Does that arras hide Pence? Does Dad still haunt? Melania! Got to a nunnery hence! Othello too…
Beethoven's Fifth
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Saturday, 14 November 2020 08:32

Beethoven's Fifth

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Beethoven’s Fifth by Martin Rowson Dom Dom Is goneDom Dom Is goneDom Dom Dom DomDom Dom Dom DomDom Dom Dom DomDom Dom Is goneTo play Minecraft underMichael Gove’s bed And recount the moon,While in his mind his enemiesAre crushed by great machines. Bless.
A Changing of the Guard
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Saturday, 14 November 2020 08:24

A Changing of the Guard

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A Changing of the Guard by David Betteridge I came, I conquered, and I left,helped on my way by the enmityof others. I saw a job requiring to be done,that of sabotage. The urge to destroy, Bakunin said,is also a creative urge. I, of the Right, agreed with what that…
Armistice Day
Wednesday, 11 November 2020 12:45

Armistice Day

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Armistice Day by Martin Rowson Six whole months ago todayI opened up a Second FrontAll of my own, my little warTo bear witness and raise moraleThrough tiny actions, slogans daubedOn to a burnt-out outhouse wall,Seditious homilies on cardsInserted into library books,And hieroglyphs stencilled beneathThe moon's face, masked with fleeting clouds,Over…
Shopping Centre
Monday, 09 November 2020 17:12

Shopping Centre

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in Poetry
Shopping Centre words and image by Rebecca Samura I know it scared you every time our eyes lit up.Little hands reaching for shiny plastic and colourful lights. Can we get it?It hurts you to say no. Others looked on, watching the show. Your self doubts, magnified by what you thought,…
It was 1915 (Grandad began)
Friday, 06 November 2020 12:58

It was 1915 (Grandad began)

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in Poetry
It was 1915 (Grandad began) by Kevin McCann The French bring these new ladsUp the line: Moroccans was what I heard, only they’re issued Tropical Kit, It’s November, cold as Hell, So come morning they’ve all frozenSolid, row after row of dark grey Corpses and every one of them grinning…
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