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

Shakespearean Tragedy
Tuesday, 17 November 2020 09:38

Shakespearean Tragedy

Written by
in Poetry
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
Saturday, 14 November 2020 08:32

Beethoven's Fifth

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in Poetry
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
Saturday, 14 November 2020 08:24

A Changing of the Guard

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in Poetry
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
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Wednesday, 11 November 2020 12:45

Armistice Day

in Poetry
Written by
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
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Monday, 09 November 2020 17:12

Shopping Centre

in Poetry
Written by
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)
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Friday, 06 November 2020 12:58

It was 1915 (Grandad began)

in Poetry
Written by
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…
Coal Monologues
Monday, 02 November 2020 10:43

Coal Monologues

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in Poetry
Coal Monologues by Willie Hershaw 1) Brother James I received the Abbot’s ordersinby the big pink house:“Yoke Joseph and Mary, to an oxen cart - take shovels, creels.Wrap up - it’s wet and marshy with few paths.Go roughly east for around six miles,keep to the right of the hills.You’ll see…
O Jeremy Corbyn
Saturday, 31 October 2020 12:04

O Jeremy Corbyn

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in Poetry
O Jeremy Corbyn by Alistair Findlay They’re hanging out old Jeremyfor still wearing the gabardinehe wore cleaning up the stablesof the old regime, the flecks of Blairand Browns’ oxen and Campbelland Mandelson still stickingvirulently to its theme, the same shitreeking of malice and the self-servinghypocrisy that so eluded him. See…
The Migrants
Thursday, 29 October 2020 10:16

The Migrants

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in Poetry
The Migrants by Martin Rowson In the hot stifling tiny roomThe cold dead eyes blanked Even an iotaOf their torment or their tearsOr their mourning as the dead voice Catechized on quotas,Spoke flatly of the processes,Rules, restrictions, retributions, The penalties compounded by each error,The limits on their movements,The denial of…
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