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

Thursday, 02 June 2016 09:03

Ballad of Credulity: a Brechtian poem

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in Poetry
Ballad of Credulity Women and priests in full-length skirtsare deemed less likely to be flirts.Thus clad, the specious theory goes,they stay immune to fleshly shows. Religion is an outworn con,burqa and hijab must be gone!Mosque and synagogue, shrine or church,their leaders leave us in the lurch. True cynosures deserve respect,yet…
Thursday, 02 June 2016 08:54

What I Told the Psychiatrist: a Brechtian poem

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in Poetry
What I Told the Psychiatristafter Woody Allen & Julie Burchill The cat pads downstairs and its clawstake their hate out on me becausehe’s been up there re-reading his copyof The Protocols of the Elders of Zion,which, one of these days, I’ll findif it kills me, which I expect it will.…
The one percent
Wednesday, 01 June 2016 11:07

The one percent

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in Poetry
The One Percent Thousands were making the precarious climbup the front of the palace which appearedthree times the normal height,to pay their respectsto the royals; they were numberlesssalmon that had always leaptthe waterfalls with their dyingpraise. There was television coverage:with the sound offthe selection of shotswas a lesson in deferenceto…
Senefelderstrasse
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Tuesday, 17 May 2016 19:28

Senefelderstrasse 19, East Berlin: a Brechtian poem

in Poetry
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The appeal for Brechtian poems in the Mayday editorial is bearing fruit. Here is the first one, from Keith Armstrong. Senefelderstrasse 19, East Berlin In the oven of a Berlin heatwave,this crumbling block bakesand all the bullet holed wallsflake.Tenements skinned bare,they burn with anxiety, death wishes,frustrated hopes. From a cracked…
The Dog's Tongue
Monday, 09 May 2016 12:46

The Dog's Tongue

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in Poetry
The dog's tongue dragged in the dirt 'We had a tiny puppy, and he followed behind us. He was panting, trying to keep up so much that his little tongue dragged in the sand.' - from Throwing Stones at the Moon: Narratives from Colombians displaced by violence, a Voice of…
A protest march
Friday, 29 April 2016 10:08

A protest march

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in Poetry
A Protest March after the painting by L. S. Lowry, 1959   Get out of the road, dogs! They're coming, marching but this lot aren’t from the factories, they're too well dressed, too high and mighty to carry banners. They’re obviously in ranks, big knobs first. One or two women…
Gulf Scream
Thursday, 28 April 2016 10:35

What a Bomb Hits

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in Poetry
What A Bomb Hits Feel the dead heat of the quietening street,see the early evening houses and the shutterson the shops. Look at the row of highrise balconieswith their Aloe Vera plants.See this door and behind it the tile-floored hallway?Look at the outdoor shoes abandoned carelesslyby going-about-their-business feet?Look in here…
In Brecht's Bar, Glasgow
Tuesday, 26 April 2016 16:50

In Brecht's Bar, Glasgow

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in Poetry
In Brecht's Bar, Glasgow “The Hollow Mountain: ever heard of it?"He placed his glass next ours, then -"Seat taken? No?" - sat down. "I overheard you talking.Seems History's your thing; mine, too,though all the dates and namesthat interest meare never put in any books at all." His face was a…
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