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

Monday, 06 July 2020 15:47

Living in dark times: the poetry of Bertolt Brecht

Written by Edward Mackinnon

in Poetry

Edward Mackinnon shows how Brecht successfully integrated Marxist theory into his poetic practice “What is robbing a bank compared with founding a bank?” “In the dark timesWill there also be singing?Yes, there will also be singing.About the dark times” “And I always thought the very simplest wordsShould be enough. If…

Wednesday, 01 July 2020 10:33

Brecht

Written by Edward Mackinnon

in Poetry

THE POETRY OF BERTOLT BRECHT “What is robbing a bank compared with founding a bank?” “In the dark timesWill there also be singing?Yes, there will also be singing.About the dark times” “And I always thought the very simplest wordsShould be enough. If I say how things areEveryone’s heart must be…

Thursday, 25 June 2020 08:58

One law for the rich........

Written by Martin Gollan

in Poetry

Call out - do we have a poem to go with this cartoon?

Robert Jenrick Richard Desmond

K2_PUBLISHED_ON Monday, 22 June 2020 14:18

Separate Cells

in Poetry

Written by David Erdos

David Erdos introduces his new collection of poems, downloadable below. The collection is illustrated by Max Crow Reeves, who also made the image above. Coronic Irrigation: An Introduction by David Erdos If an irritation is seen as something that disturbs The smooth surface, thus came Corona to rub And to…

Covid19

K2_PUBLISHED_ON Saturday, 20 June 2020 08:27

a break in the weather: flags, fascism, mourning, and the machinery of capitalism

in Poetry

Written by Fran Lock

a break in the weather by Fran Lock, with image by Steev Burgess even the dogs, distended with heat. i wanted rain.women with their conscientious shopping washedaway. these mutant brides of hygiene, trendingand aerobic, who tsk my dirty boots in queues.this mineral stutter. gardens stained with bruteoccasion. chalk reproach. hedges…

Covid19 Second World War Great Smog Fascism

K2_PUBLISHED_ON Thursday, 18 June 2020 12:48

I am Road, I am Mother, I am a Better Person Now, I am Failed

in Poetry

Written by Jane Burn

I am Road, I am Mother, I am a Better Person Now, I am Failed words and image by Jane Burn So I have this ache (suddenly) to run. Don’t go thinking I’m fit, that I flow like a river. I just got sick, sick of the sight of myself,…

K2_PUBLISHED_ON Tuesday, 09 June 2020 09:34

All the Swings are Gone

in Poetry

Written by Karl Parkinson

Karl Parkinson is a poet and novelist from north inner city Dublin. He is well known for his spoken word performances and videos, like the one at the end of this piece Karl has published a novel, The Blocks (New Binary Press), and two collections of poetry: Litany of the…

Wednesday, 03 June 2020 15:01

Plague Songs - It Cures What Ails Ya!

Written by Martin Rowson

in Poetry

Plague Songs - It Cures What Ails Ya! by Martin Rowson One should not mock the chronic sick,And nor should we mock DominicWhose road-based therapies recall,Damascus-bound, those of St PaulWho was, you lot should be reminded,On a road trip when unblinded.Dom need make no apology!It’s not just opthalmologyThat sees Road…

Dominic Cummings Covid19

Monday, 01 June 2020 07:56

Darkening

Written by Steve Pottinger

in Poetry

Darkening by Steve Pottinger for george under a darkening skywe sit round a log fireout there cities are burningthe planet is burning and i can’t breathe out there people are dyingin hospitals in care homesalone in bedsits with the kneeof a cop pressed into their neck and i can’t breathe…

I can't breathe George Floyd

Sunday, 31 May 2020 17:04

breath

Written by Fran Lock

in Poetry

breath by Fran Lock, with image by Martin Gollan inside this symmetrical fiction of skins, we do not courtthe carnivore attentions of a cop with eyes like bullicanteglass. we do not wear our reservoirs. we do not bear ourfreight of names upon the face; find a dirty jest of us…

I can't breathe George Floyd

Sunday, 31 May 2020 11:55

The Last Hurrah

Written by Hamish Wilson

in Poetry

The Last Hurrah by Hamish Wilson In thanks, we gave our NHS a clap,banged saucepans, hooted, whistled, strummed and sang,gave glad hands for heroes, joyful urban rapwith wartime spirit - UK’s Crazy Gang. Next Thursday, we give it up for silence,as other hands go on, will never stop,working to the…