poetry

Kate Tempest

 

Saw her last night
she only had a mike
instruments lost
mid-flight

Didn’t stop her flight
of words
raining down
Mighty

She said we’re all sick cos
we’re ignoring the plight
of so many we might
help. In fact

we cause

the wars

with our claws

for oil and spoils and reality shows
where real-life’s paused

And you know what?
She’s right

 

I was blown away by last night’s Kate Tempest show in Zurich. I didn’t take any photos so instead I’ve used a pic of hundreds of cacti at Zurich’s Sukkulenten Sammlung, which I also visited yesterday. Disclaimer: while this poem is obviously a homage done “in the style of” Kate Tempest, last night was the first time I’d seen her spoken word stuff live or otherwise. The live performance took things to a whole new level, of course. And, while I would say my poetry style is often not dissimilar to this, I very much hope my own style is still my own!  

No Borders

No Borders. Photo: Claire Doble

 

No borders

Sans Frontières

Ohne Grenzen

 

Let there no more be

Criminals of geography

Set them free

Those refugees

Is that Anarchy?

 

Let no more customs taxes

Be used as palm-waxers

But patch the cracks

Where company fat

Lurks in loopholes instead of mending train tracks

 

Human beings being

Disallowed for fleeing

Government regimes

Punished twice it seems;

they didn’t want to leave

 

Open the gates, cut the cord

Move free, back and forward

Stifle stupid laws

Smash established orders

No borders

 

Here’s one I prepared earlier… I wrote this poem a while back and tried submitting it to a few poetry journals. However, no one wanted to publish it (for various reasons) so here ’tis. It’s also a little something to keep Clairevetica ticking over as I’m doing NaNoWriMo this month so I won’t have a lot of time for blogging! Plus, I needed to use this perfectly-suited photo I took. Hope you enjoy it, and wish me luck on my emerging novel. Oh, my novel? A feminist sci-fi set in post-apocalyptic Switzerland, thanks for asking!

Listening

Two Friends photo via http://www.splitshire.com/

 

When women quietly tell

how they were raped

or that thing he did

without permission

“I froze

I fought

And I just lay there in case

he did something worse…”

She was drunk when she told me

but she wasn’t back then

even if she was

it shouldn’t have happened

I went home and I cried

when she told me, quietly

that haunted look in her blue eyes

sometimes

made sense

And I wanted to mother her

more than ever

so

we had more wine

and I did nothing much

just sat there listening in case

she said something worse…

I went home and I cried

holding her story inside

hoping pain could be cured

even slightly

by being spoken and heard

Heartlines

Photo: Peter John Maridable via https://unsplash.com/photos/tRJtLQ8p1fU

Photo: Peter John Maridable via https://unsplash.com/photos/tRJtLQ8p1fU

 

The heartlines that stretch

like yarn

like vapour trails

like ink from your pen

winging its way

in a letter you sent

like a lit road at night

seen from the sky

that jewelled line of bright

beaded with light

like blood from a scratch

or a virtual smile

from you to me

across the miles

 

This poem was also published on The Drabble on 29 October 2016. 🙂

The black in your blue

 

oeschinensee

 

Blue mountain water

Black-backed like lead paint or

Ash in the sky

An old school-desk painted over many times

A clean sort of grime

Watercolour liquid, semi-opaque

The silt of millennia

Ancient clues in aqueous solution

We splash like young fools

As the earth revolves

Cradled in the bowl

of a mountain so old

Our tiny joy

A fleck against

All ecstasy and angst.

The black in your blue

I know it’s me too

The picture he gave me

Words that came through

Firefly times

All our past lives

Constantly strive

Never-forever… abides

Oh my narrow-wide mind

an always-restless bride

Reflected in

My blue-black eyes

 

Honey afternoons


 

I hate days like today

Just want to get away

Trapped under glass

A bug on its arse

My mind poured like fizzy beer

Over and around life, but nothing’s clear

I’m sure when I awoke

I had purpose, that choked

Crisp autumn afternoon, sunny

Should be sweet like honey

But it’s sticky, holding me back

Feeling flat as a tack

Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who gives the least fucks of all?

 

gnf

 

Give No Fucks Woman

Has hair like a gorgon

And cares less

 

Give No Fucks Woman

Trip-traps over Twitter

Slaying trolls, like a goddess

 

Give No Fucks Woman

Is strong, brave and a Queen

No, not a Disney princess

 

Give No Fucks Woman

A post-midnight Cinderella

Gives no fucks for her lost dress

 

Give No Fucks Woman, hey

I hear what you say

Please don’t repress

 

But, Give No Fucks Woman

Your words can drip poison

Snow White’s in distress

And though she’s a mess

(You don’t like her best,

barely rates your largesse)

Don’t you give a fuck about this?