RECLAIM THE NIGHT

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When I’m out walking late at night

I cut through parks and places with no light

When I’m out walking late at night

I pass parked cars and people having fights

When I’m out walking late at night

I bump into drunks who ask if “I’m all right”

When I’m out walking late at night

the sound of a high-heel shoe doesn’t give me a fright

When I’m out walking late at night

a voice in my head says this aint right

When I’m out walking late at night

I think freedom based on gender is a bag of shite!

Soltys of Solway

My name is john

I am the son of a slave

My father was taken into slavery

At the age of fourteen

Where he was forced to work in a quarry

With other emaciated half starved boys

The quarry was guarded by gunmen

Who played target practice with the exhausted

My father the son of a Chief

Survived by his wits and his strength

When he was liberated he searched for his family

When no trace could be found his liberators offered

To transport him to their island and look after him

Once he got to the island it was to the bleak north

Near a wide river estuary where the winter winds cut to the marrow

in yet another camp enclosed in a fence bedecked with barbed wire

My father thought it strange that the first three letters

of his name matched those of the river?

In time

and on the basis of his forest dwelling history

he was given work with the Forestry Commission

and sent to the borderlands where he was set with the task

of planting thousands of pine trees which he felt

had nothing to do with the word Forestry

at the end of each day

with his overalls smelling of pine

he’d explain it to me

of our ancestry

and what freedom meant

…truly meant….to Freemen and Slavs

Threads, by Mark Connors

WORD!

I am not a silent poet

i

We live in the age of pulling threads,
open colossal cans of worms
which once kept bigotry contained.
We cannot help but hear them spill:
the plop, the seethe and the wriggling
to uncomfortable truths;
we have moved forwards but stepped back.
Our leaders pull threads and get votes,
legitimise bad behaviours
in our pubs, on radio
in the places where we go to work,
on a scale not known for decades.
They split countries 50/50
in ways which once caused civil wars.

ii

There was a film that shocked us, once,
about a nuclear winter
in Sheffield, of all places.
As realistic as it was,
the three-minute generation
were protected by a comfort:
mutually assured destruction,
as cold as a comfort can be
but a comforting deterrent
which is no longer evident
in these days of no trust. Seldom
have we seen such oscillation:
one day leaders threat…

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