Poets’ page
Every so often we carry a number of poems on political matters. Here is a current selection.
Blues?
By Thom Cross
We got the blues!
Blue on blue
black n blue
Tory-boyz
Eton-boyz blues
We all lose.
Bad news
for folk like me and you
trying to get through
the lies and the hate
from the blue Tory state
and their chums in the press
spewing a shitty news-mess
paid for and sold
by corrupt-Tory gold.
By the inches watch them buy
Lie after lie;
Read the Tory-life of lies
In a state where all truth dies
‘Create hate mate!’
Say the pompous and the great
Create red n blue frustration
Demonize immigration
If you don’t look like me
There’s leaky boats on the sea
Vote Brexit & be proud
Watch the dip in the pound
Join the Eton chorus
Of Bullington Boris
Follow me! Follow me!
Brexit is for us and ME!
T’hell with the economy
Fk- the pols and the frogs
The jocks and the Calais nogs
In Engerland’s blue and unpleasant land!
Democracy is a mirage!
With Boris, Gove n Farage!
Don’t dance to that band
Let’s have jazz in our land
The drum beat o fraternity
Horns give us dignity
Wi the bass-strum o solidarity
An the pipes o sovereignty
Give us stramach ‘n rock n roll
With an honest Celtic soul
Give us Euro-romance
We’ll hooch n we’ll dance
Across Europe n France
A great Ceilidh of joy
So dance Greek kore n boy
With garcon n lassie
With zolkie and brahzie
Dance across the Rhone n Rhine
In soul n prance n reel-time
and through our heather
Oh how we’ll dance!
We will dance; dance the gither!
Post-Script
Oh what a nonsense that we cannie dance
Ideas leap & whirl in this wee country
In reels of thought and dreams
And in the progress of the steps it seems
That in our dance we hope, for in that glance
We choreograph a future.
Justice is our destiny: for this we dance.
Heritage
By James Aitchison
Memories spontaneously repeat themselves
I often think of Wallace Street.
I never knew the landlord who got the rent
For our two rooms in his slum tenement.
‘Landlord’, ‘slum tenement’ – I didn’t know
What these words meant seventy years ago.
We moved to a new house when I was eight
But Wallace Street is still an essential state
Of mind and spirit. The enduring creed
Of my proletarian heritage
Has given me the lasting title-deed
To slum-land innocence in my old age.
What I like about Brexit
By Peter Lomas
What I like about Brexit is its cheery, decisive, it’s-a-new-day sound.
Like the ring of a steely old alarm-clock (made in Britain, of course).
Br-r-ring!
Or like breakfast.
Look at the clever toast, jumping up in the toaster all by itself.
Get your sovereignty back!
Pour some milk on your Breksits!
What I like about Brexit is its Br-r-itishness.
We’re not Europeans!
Or Americans either (they’re all Europeans anyway, more Poles in Chicago, etc.).
We’re eXceptional!
We’ve got the X-factor, the je-ne-sais-quoi (oops).
Let them speak English!
Bring back the imperial measures, the funky pounds, shillings and pence!
We’re different – not logical, like the Krauts, or snooty, like the French, or wimpish, like the Eyeties, or show-offs, like the Spics.
Let them eat paella!
What I like about Brexit is its rough, gritty, liberating feel.
Like thumbing a flame from your Zippo in front of all those gasbags in Brussels.
Don’t you just love being in control? Boom!
If you can’t fix it, Brex it.
Sometimes you’ve got to hex it.
George Eliot said humankind can’t bear too much reality.
And he was right.
I’m going to pray to Saint Theresa.
