Tuesday, 23 June 2009


this poem deals with sexual violence, following Channel 4's Dispatches TV programme last night "Rape in the City", which has been on my mind all day.

so please do not continue if you may find this upsetting.


Can’t say no.
Can’t say go.
Relentless pressure applied to a soul,
Viewed only as having three accessible holes.
Something so British about an orderly queue,
Waiting patiently in line to penetrate youth.
Boys so weak that they’re thinking they’re strong.
If their mother or sister, would they then see it wrong?
At maturity they’ll claim to be reformed men,
But the girl will see their faces again and again.
Muffled tears rain on concrete steps,
Blood laced briefs that were once best kept.
Tricked from friendship and circles of trust
To satisfy growing urges of adolescent lust,
A code of silence and mistrust of the police,
So no deterrent to ejaculated release.
A princess viewed as flesh and a slut,
Like a special topping ordered from PizzaHut.
Is it girls or themselves that the boys most hate?
Ask them… they don’t even see it as rape.



Saturday, 20 June 2009

My Write

Some wonder at my style of writing,
Passionate and full of fighting,
They choose to leave my issues be,
And not talk of betterment and equality…
I respect their desire to leave my subjects
Alone, and deal with life’s sweet objects
At home. I’ll not comment on others reality,
Except for those as pale as me.
I have the right,
To judge the wrong in white.

Saturday, 13 June 2009

Mother land

on the premise that all of humanity is descended from East Africans...

Many years ago
My African ancestors strolled
From the mother land.
A band
Of men, women and children
Whose looks over time and descendents
Paled to cope with cold. And as we weathered,
My people became coloured.
We settled many places
And became many shades of white races.
Our character carried this pioneer spirit that didn’t recognise
The rights of others. We named this trait “civilised”.
Our link to nature lost,
We invented religion at the cost
Of forgetting the earth
Is bound in spiritual worth
With She, our ancestral Queen, the Great Mystery.
Instead, we worshipped ourselves and called our faith His-story.
We proclaimed a God in our own image
And invented in Him our desire for rage.
Ignoring His son’s life of Peace. Without shame
We bestowed gifts upon ourselves in His name.
Gifts of green, but not of nature.
Instead the colour of ink on white-like-us-paper.
Our beliefs in God, ourselves and greed
Were able to justify that others should bleed.
Journeys began across land and sea.
Found old places and called it “discovery”.
Indigenous peoples viewed as a different class,
Yet we hadn’t recognised ourselves from our past.
What should have been a family reunion
Instead became butchery after Sunday communion.
Ships that should have united all in ancestry
Stole kin from lands and transported them to slavery.
Spread Christian beliefs across African nations,
A Caucasian Jesus inventing racial discrimination.
Beauty took form in what was white and European.
De-beautified Queens raped among sugar cane in the Caribbean.
Isolated a people that rose and beat us
So that now we even bus
White tourists onto Haitian segregated sands
Denying distant relatives the riches of their lands,
As the wealthy bathe away from poor,
More Africans hit with an apartheid law.
We created empires that butchered a family,
Then called it a Commonwealth in the name of equality,
But to member states I’m humbly suggesting,
It’s like a child staying with the father who molested him.
Wind back our evolution to the start of the tree.
Truth of the matter would f*ck up the BNP.
From Africa our ancestors were born,
And now, as white, we pass scorn
Over brothers and sisters we don’t view as equal.
When we left our Mother, we were infested with evil.