no pain, no shame

here is a little limerick by benjamin zephaniah...

i do like a good veggie burger
the reasons just couldn't be clearer
they're full of the best
and unlike the rest
they do not invlove any murder.

tears

(here's a poem about being a bit upset...)

the little soldiers of self pity
when they come a-quick marching near
to make up a home in your city
of disappointment and lost fears

they'll scream and they'll shout, you'll lose all your mates
they'll take what they want, and your cheer.
so don't:
let them in,
keep them out,
bar the gates!
and remember to hold yourself...
dear.

mo poetry

And the Others

Some find The Light in literature;
Others in fine art,
And some persist in being sure
The Light shines in the heart.

Some find The Light in alcohol;
Some, in the sexual spark;
Some never find The Light at all
And make do with the dark,

And one might guess that these would be
A gloomy lot indeed,
But, no, The Light they never see
They think they do not need.

David Berman. reproduced without the consent of the author. i jus' like rilly, rilly like, like it...

some poetry

as it's sinday and all, some poetry, by one: benjamin zephaniah


is call independence...


no house
no money
no milk
no honey
but dis land is ours.

no bricks
no mortar
no private water,
no roads
no signs
no enemy mines,
no work
no play
just dried up clay,
but what?
dis land is ours.

that little piece of sun is ours
we borrow clouds from neighbours,
we got air
we got we
no industry
but we are free
and asking you no favours.

and who are you anyway?
what is your bank?

what is a gun?
what's meant by your rank?

why do you have
that lust in your eyes?
your holy book says
you're a typical lie.

no sweat
no pain
no material gain
but what?
dis land is ours,
no wars to do
dat's right
no you.

sail on
dis land is ours.



good, innit?

nice poem

today i is been at stamford hill library. it has been a bit quiet. this can make the day pass a bit slowly or it can give one the opportunity to peruse the rather extensive poetry collection here (it's on the back wall if you looking for it). anyhoo, here is a nice poem i found in staying alive.

delay by elizabeth jennings.

the radiance of that star that leans on me
was shining years ago. the light that now
glitters up there my eye may never see,
and so the time lag teases me with how

love that loves now may not reach me until
its first desire is spent. the star's impulse
must wait for eyes to claim it beautiful
and love arrived may find us somewhere else

the poetry of huey p.

bit of a zen flavour to this one. wicked tho, no?

by having no family,
i inherited the family of humanity.
by having no possesions,
i have possesed all.
by rejecting the love of one,
i received the love of all.
by surrendering my life to the revolution,
i found eternal life.
revolutionary suicide.

-huey p. newton

zen

to her lover, a beautiful woman
is like heaven on earth.

to the ascetic, she is nothing
but a distraction.

to the wolf,
she is lunch.

someone's watching over me...

angel on the morning bus
there (for me) when you were needed:
lost in my story
you forewarned me
of impending lateness
(i would have missed it) all
you did
was say one word,
got on
then
got straight off.
(i never got to say)
thank you.

inglan is a bitch!

saw this in the library today, it's by a poet called linton kwezi johnson. caught me fancy; though i'd share it!

inglan is a bitch by lonton kwezi johnson


w'en mi jus' come to Landan toun
mi use to work pan di andahgroun
but workin' pan di andahgroun
y'u don't get fi know your way aroun'
Inglan is a bitch
dere's no escapin' it
Inglan is a bitch
dere's no runnin' whey fram it

mi get a lickle jab in a big 'otell
an' awftah a while, mi woz doin' quite well
dem staat mi aaf as a dish-washah
but w'en mi tek a stack, mi noh tun clack-watchah!

Inglan is a bitch
dere's no escapin it
Inglan is a bitch
noh baddah try fi hide fram it

w'en dem gi' you di lickle wage packit
fus dem rab it wid dem big tax rackit
y'u haffi struggle fi mek en's meet
an' w'en y'u goh a y'u bed y'u jus' cant sleep

Inglan is a bitch
dere's no escapin it
Inglan is a bitch fi true
a noh lie mi a tell, a true

mi use to work dig ditch w'en it cowl noh bitch
mi did strang like a mule, but, bwoy, mi did fool
den awftah a while mi jus' stap dhu ovahtime
den aftah a while mi jus' phu dung mi tool

Inglan is a bitch
dere's no escapin it
Inglan is a bitch
y'u haffi know how fi suvvive in it

well mi dhu day wok an' mid dhu nite wok
mi dhu clean wok an' mid dhu dutty wok
dem seh dat black man is very lazy
but it y'u si how mi wok y'u woulda sey mi crazy

Inglan is a bitch
dere's no escapin it
Inglan is a bitch
y'u bettah face up to it

dem have a lickle facktri up inna Brackly
inna disya facktri all dem dhu is pack crackry
fi di laas fifteen years dem get mi laybah
now awftah fiteen years mi fall out a fayvah

Inglan is a bitch
dere's no escapin it
Inglan is a bitch
dere's no runnin' whey fram it

mi know dem have work, work in abundant
yet still, dem mek mi redundant
now, at fifty-five mi gettin' quite ol'
yet still, dem sen' mi fi goh draw dole

Inglan is a bitch
dere's no escapin it
Inglan is a bitch fi true
is whey wi a goh dhu 'bout it?