The Ballad of Private Manning
Vaclav Havel died today:
you spoke of freedom far away,
but in a courtroom in your land,
the witnesses denied the stand
told the story, gave the lie
to that song you sing, the flag you fly.
You are not brave, and neither are you free,
and though you claim it, you do not love liberty.
While Private Manning sits in jail
your Founding Fathers' drea...
Thursday 22nd December 2011 10:23 pm
She writes down all the answers but she doesn’t raise her hand.
She bites her lip to keep her mouth from moving.
She never stays behind to ask a question after class:
she comes and goes and sits there, just achieving,
pushing up the school’s league table ranking,
never acting out or showing signs of EBD.
Her Belsen ribs, her jutting hipbones, are the things you’ll ...
Sunday 20th March 2011 10:47 pm
(dedicated to Nick Clegg)
I sit by the harbour
and I wake in bed cursing the moment
when I realised I could set any tune on my phone
as my alarm clock noise, and my own laziness
for never changing it after
our summer trip to Whitby,
where we ate breakfast in the Caedmon cafe,
poky, basic, vaguely disappointing
(so appropriately named after a poet),
Tuesday 11th January 2011 8:21 pm
Tags: Nick Clegg can kiss my snooze button, poetry, politics
Surprised how slim you looked, how young,
red cotton briefs that made you look like Sybil Starr,
my room the way it was, the bed half-broken.
I lay, my body rhymed, at last, with yours,
though clothed: the same smooth legs,
same swelling breasts, the same receiving void
between the legs, the origin of worlds,
here, at the end, yours given, mine achieved.
Monday 10th January 2011 9:52 pm
Tags: bloody depressing, death, gender, poetry, sexuality
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