I am a recent immigrant from Ireland who has been writing for a long time, though as a subordinate activity to my activism. I have had agitprop plays performed during my time in Ireland and a documentary broadcast on RTE in 1998. I have had some poems published in now defunct) political journals. I currently read (perform) at the Dead Good Poets in Liverpool. I seek to have recent satirical sketches performed -the themes are from the current political degeneration of Britain and Western Europe and the culture of self-supervision. I also have a number of short stories touting for publication and a novel in progress. I have just finished a play called 'Comfort', which I am touting to festivals and theatre companies.Set in an psycho-therapy call centre.
Death of a leader When I heard of your death, I thought of tartan, Your skirt’s red plaid, rebellion’s stale disguise, Tasted bitter coffee ,that welcome spartan, For us, whose virgin ardour hailed you wise. In a basement room you sat before our fire , Heard us conjure an end to this world of lies, Call criminal the loves which could not aspire To build your clockwork logic’s paradise. Our youth neither poverty nor danger feared, In factory and street greed’s bane we fought, Then far utopias fell and your decrees appeared, Sordid ,without the robes our faith had bought.. You twisted love into hooks , truth into lures , To capture souls more generous than yours. Legacy Behind ivy- draped garden walls, ‘For-sale’ signs ,pretty colored lollipop heads Of Royal blue,,signal red, zinc white ,apple green On fresh-wood yellow sticks, Spring up, in this the autumn of our greed. Brightly in sign language they bespeak The autism of your need , heralding the hour To vacate the penthouse flat, hawk the terraced Two-up, two-down, once the migrant navvy’s crown,. You who scorned to name a humble house a home , A place where the heart is, to lay the weary head , But chortled to the banker and the old schoolfriend ‘Finger my portfolio of undeveloped property, Not dwellings these, but tradeable blocks of equity, Counters, chips ,items in a gambler’s game. Treasure pots for the daring , cages for the tame.’ So You climbed the property ladder, The rungs you stole, you wrecked the frame All came apart, and you’ve landed on your hole. What price your outdoor hot-tub now? The shares of time you sold on-line To fund that villa in the South of France ?? You have to leave the roof , but take the floor! It’s time to do the Benefits Shuffle, Learn the family- credit dance. Know your place, stand in line, practise the Disability whine, chant and pant to invoke the ghost of Margaret Thatcher, that kiddies’ milk- snatcher, Transatlantic carrier of the virus of greed, Oh what a carry-on! You caught her bird ‘flu , You thought it gave you wings to fly to a higher social station, now you beg the socialist splint to heal your painful dislocation, dislocation, dislocation. Remember how you beckoned skeksis Thatcher, Corporate Thatcher, the vulture - hatcher , Into the nest? Cuckoo- style she had you incubate the scavenger’s egg ,and when . the birds flew, beyond your ladder’s reach they soared , In spotting carrion , unerring they have grown! Those vultures are coming home to roost, Move out, clear off! the nest was just on loan! And if you need more balm to salve your hurt. Repeat this mantra when they re-possess; Less is more, loss is mere, You’re not without a home, Merely property -less..
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
The Transmigration of Souls (10/09/2015)
A Suitcase in Berlin (23/08/2015)
This Autumn (13/11/2014)
At The Bombed-out Church (13/10/2013)
Mid-Summary Murders (12/03/2013)
Haikku for October (25/10/2011)
Poppy Picking Day (09/11/2010)
Play at the Unity (01/06/2010)
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