Well-versed in deflection
Adept sleight-of-eye
We swallow confection
No hint of a lie
With no information
To pad out the cues
We’re sunk in deflation
That borders abuse
And used to the stories
So rarely explained
We vote for HisTories
And nothing is gained
Consistent imprudence
Of well-feathered nest
Career jurisprudence
You-know-who knows best
We’re damned by inaction
To more of the same
A knee-jerk reaction
And someone to blame
Push me to places
I ain’t seen before
I’ll paint on some faces
To look like your whore
But deep in my mind
There’s so little you see
I keep it locked tight
Holding onto what’s me
The terrible things
That we do in this world
Are only a symptom
We pass off – absurd
So I’ll do my worst
‘Til I’m hailed as the best
You’d think we were cursed
But we’re just like the rest
And I can breathe magic
Just give me the word
It smells rather tragic
But haven’t you heard
The twisting of sisters
And mothers and misters
Is brotherly love
With a burning that blisters
It’s time for my act
So get ready to listen
My mould has been cracked
I’m the last one to glisten
With genuine feeling
That’s cheap by the dozen
You’re welcome to healing
But no kissing your cousin
I’ll take you to heights
Just to jump off the top
And tell you of sights
‘Til you beg me to stop
There’s nothing to do here
And less I can build
But I’ll keep my mind clear
And my body filled
With poisonous substance
That’s hardly substantial
You’ve really no beef
The whole thing’s circumstantial
It doesn’t make sense
When I come from this background
But who cares for pence
When you’re far from the fair ground
The going was rough
I thought I was a goner
But nothing says tough
Like a second-hand Doner
I don’t mean to pry
But why are you still reading
When you could be flying
And fucking and speeding
Nobody cares
So what if I get careless
I’m doing my thing
And it’s none of their business
You just keep paying
The price of my ticket
It’s cheaper than praying
And you know you can stick it
How ironic it seems
That a selfie of Jen
Has eclipsed other headlines
Of conflict again
It’s as if through a lens
Entertainment appears
To be focused on comments
By anchor and peers
Though our hungriest, game
For a laugh as may be
Under clouds and on Sky
Must disrobe for TV
Where it leads if it bleeds
All depends on the dress:
The front cover of Vogue
For a dazzling temptress
Or a reddit thread, late
Where true fans would agree
Little more than click bait
Will be all that you see
There’s a choice for the viewer
And it’s moral – how quaint!
Pick which story to follow
To see through the paint
While there’s Isis; the Syrian
Conflict goes on
And shells still fall on Gaza
All through Libya’s Dawn
Civil war slowly creeping
Through Ukraine and East
As the whole world sits, watching
Awaiting the feast
We have crackers and hackers
Stampeding both scenes
And celebrities dropping
Like the flies of their jeans
We may be quite discerning,
Pick a view to a kill
Or an intimate evening
With a very cheap thrill
When the freest of thinkers
Chooses girls in the buff
Over lifting their blinkers
To examine the rough
I’m amazed readers make it
This far through a poem
Without pictures explicit
To lighten the tone
So the best we may hope
For a future of peace
Is a world that’s too broke
To afford to release
All the weapons still stored
Under ground, as above
Though it’s MAD to assume
That when push comes to shove
Such assurances mean
There’s a soul in the flock
Still refusing the fruit
That’s created to shock
Here’s an uncivil liberty
Waiting to pounce
While the government votes
For less private accounts
The New Verse News have been kind enough to publish one of my poems online. You can read it here.
I’m not black, not gifted, not even young
Never carried a knife to school, nor a gun
Have yet to feature on the ten most wanted
In the hit parade, no mention, by the tabloids I’m untaunted
For the paparazzi never follow me
Don’t flash my scanties for the scallies snorting coke at a party
I can move quite freely round the city streets
Nobody cares about my politics, my weight or bad habits
So you see I don’t meet the entry criteria
Just don’t belong to this mass-hysteria
Nobody feels guilty for my persecution
And I can’t expect apologies or contributions
I never sniffed glue, huffed paint or tried to get high
When there were chores to do, I did them, when I earned I put some by
My youth was not exactly what you’d call misspent
I never caught religious fervour, I’m not trying to repent
My dad stayed home while my mum worked late
We survived without the help of the welfare state
I never got fondled by an errant priest
Not been arrested for possession, prostitution by police
So you won’t see my poems in the magazines
Nor my biopic on your TV screens
For my stable mind and my legal status
Have put me into some sort of poetic hiatus
I can scribble it all down, every golden word
But it is nothing but frustrating if I try to get them heard
For the world is only int’rested in marketing a brand
And the labels all prefer to form their perfect, packaged band
Yeah, I write rap lyrics but I don’t perform them
So my street cred is a lie worn by some kid whose fans adore him
For the master wordsmith that can represent
Who gets his bling and ghetto styling from a Knightsbridge gent
Don’t try to kid yourself that I’m some kind of poet
I’m not down with any peeps, not cool, and don’t I bloody know it!
For nice, polite, well brought up, and hard working women
Can only write the life they know, and that won’t sell a single poem.
The best thing about a committee
Is there’s always somebody to blame
A convenient scapegoat to pity
While feeding the papers a name
And as all the ballots are secret
There is no-one to call out the lie
As you smile at the cameraman’s edit
One more face in a coat and a tie
Oh, we cannot condemn the committee
Just a small offering will suffice
Thus with humblest expressions of duty
We prepare for the next sacrifice
Katherine Shirley 