Poem By Anthony Foster

Crumpled clothes in boxes to be moved before the Bailiffs arrives,
Like the crumpled clothes it is in their crumpled lives,
After living in their home for oh so many years,
They are out on the street like so much human garbage,

The politicians, the Bankers oh yes they knew the best,
Borrow this, take this loan, it will all be fine and easy,
Where there were homes is now just empty shells of places,
And the streets are filled with the empty shells of people,

The shops and factories are silent no more hurry,
Where there were jobs is now the silence of despair,
They owe us money why should we worry,
Kick them out, no money; they have no right to be there,

Maybe the people will start to take a note and learn,
What the people whom they voted for do so in their term,
Maybe the greedy and the liars would get voted out,
It would make a better breed of politician,
On that I have no doubt.

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And then you are grovelling for food.

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Not about misery and gloom,
We lose many friends along the way,
So let’s celebrate the people we have known.


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Dedicated to Ahmad Shiddiqi

Lines of energy pulse gently through the earth,
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The beat in my chest catches in my throat,
The unfairness assaults me, my mind‘s in a moat,
I want to smash something, to show how you are so wrong,
The moment is destroyed I want to go I don’t belong,