Posts By Sarah Clancy

GB

and yet /we must live/ in these times

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and yet /we must live/ in these times

In the housing office the woman says
if I need a house that I’ll have to tell the council
I’m homeless  or else bunk in with my parents
and I feel  the heat of tears in my eyes and let me tell you
it’s not sadness I’m feeling it’s anger;
after all of my years insisting that no one
will ever call me victim in they come
and do it from a whole different angle I didn’t see coming
and they call it helping,
these are the times that I live in
still paying the tail end of my mortgage
with no home to show for it
and I wonder what I’ve absorbed that means
even with all of my theories, my politics
this, the oldest human endeavour;
seeking out shelter
has become shame-filled
and on my way down through town
Rosaleen asks for a fiver, I give it
it’s easier to offer than to ask I reckon
she says I am beautiful showing the limits
of her English vocabulary, I am not
what I am is damaged and raging,
on days like this I seek the sea out and breath it,
or I’ll write love poems to someone
and you what do you do to get through it?

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Sponsor This Poem Or I’ll Kick Your Head In

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I won’t name the entity that’s colonising creativity
except to say that it has been turfed off the sportsfield
for low tackles and foul behaviour already, you will find it in
a million spewed up burgers on our city pavements
and it was there while a thousand boy racers
had single vehicle collisions and left their mothers crying
it stood and watched wife beatings, gay bashings, street violence
it leered at women with their skirts askew in doorways
it sat at the cliffs while friends of mine jumped off them
and quicker than you can say tax-payer- funded
public- service- broadcasting it mixed with pills and sadness
in lonely apartments and killed people, worse it appeased
our post colonial state so much that we can’t mount
even a strongly worded letter and now in the last bastion
where people can create something, in one last Arena
of no profit ventures ,in a refuge of free breathing, seeing
and of open fulfilling disagreements It has the nerve to ask
if it could be allowed to enter, it says it’s at our service,
but to be honest I doubt it. Sponsor this poem or I’ll bottle ya.

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The Kindest Revolution?

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A review of Ghost Estate by William Wall, Published by Salmon Poetry 2011 ‘…& are we supposed to sympathise when the gentry find themselves in the same boat or plane as everyone else?’ From ‘Job…

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