Poem: The forgotten

Line us up.
Line us up and check us in.
Check us out and hand us our cheques.
“You. Not you. You. Not you.”  

Once upon a time,
people used to read
beginnings of books
to their children.
Some had a bedroom
where they could go
belly full
and sleep in innocence
and dream.

Now they line up,
holding hands
with the single file lines
of singularly filed parents:
that drain on the creases of faces
of the lines of liars leading
a state that doesn’t see
the worn away ranks
where those children now hold the hands
of their worn away mothers and fathers;

Who are we not to feed your children,
nor you to not nourish mine?
In this home of maternal
do we forget who we are?
We’ve forgotten who they are,
the grubby ones we’d rather not see,
queuing up for their rations,
decades since we lost our own books.


In 2013-14, over 900,000 people received three days emergency rations of food from Trussell Trust Food Banks. That doesn’t even take into consideration those who received similar rations, from other providers. That’s nearly ONE MILLION PEOPLE.

If you think this is a damn disgrace in 21st Century Great Britain, please donate money and food to your local food bank, volunteer or do whatever you can to raise awareness that the punishing, unjust and ideologically driven austerity measures implemented by this Conservative led government (and enabled by their Liberal Democrat lap dogs, of course), are causing a spread of inequality at epidemic rates, in this, the supposed home of parliamentary democracy.

Yet another reason, that #CameronMustGo but hundreds of thousands of reasons why we must not sit idly by waiting for this to happen. Volunteer, donate, shout in indignation that this is not the sort of society we want to live in




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