Crime Violence Poem – Inner City News Week

crime violence poem

Inner City News Week is a crime violence poem, a reflection on how social deprivation is a direct contributory factor to violence and crime.

Inner City News Week – Crime Violence Poem

The police arrested the 15-year old youth hours after he had raided
and ransacked Logan's grocery store in the city centre. During the
raid, the youth cleared the till and assaulted staff with an iron bar.
They are now in a critical condition at hospital.

According to the head of the local second level school, expulsion numbers
are at an all-time high. Unruly student behaviour, truancy, and
lack of home support are among the main causes. Although the
school has requested funding for additional resource staff, so far,
it has been unable to provide specialised care for troubled students
due to financial restraints.

A teenager was found dead at her family's city centre apartment
this morning. She had been stabbed repeatedly. The police have appealed
to anyone with information in relation to this brutal death to come

The local food bank is seeking donations to enable it to continue to
meet the growing demand for staple food items. Donations can
be dropped off between 9 am and 6 pm seven days a week at the
headquarters in Mill Street.

Shortly after midnight on Saturday night, the police had to
disperse a large gathering of youths after neighbours had
complained of drunken and disorderly behaviour. Eyewitnesses
said that it was unclear whether the teenagers had been drinking
alcohol or consuming drugs.

The Minister for Finance announced cuts to spending on social
projects, including community care, youth development, and
educational support schemes. His statement dashed the hopes
of locals campaigning for the erection of a youth and community centre.

Today in court, a woman lost her appeal to have her children
returned to her. After gaining employment at a warehouse on
the edge of the city, the woman had hoped social services would
allow her children to come home. Her 15-year old son and 11-year
old daughter remain in foster care despite their pleas to the judge.

Inequality Poem – Castoffs

inequality poem - Castoffs

Castoffs is an inequality poem, a reflection on inadequate wages and the financial imbalances that exist everywhere.

Castoffs – Inequality Poem

Christmas 2015, 
his Mom is wearing a brand-new posh frock,
her gleaming smile masks the stench of castoffs,
the stink that appals the follicles in your nose
when you step into a charity shop
stuffed with castoffs
established for castoffs
who / he's learned /
ought to be ever so thankful
that there even is such as thing
as a charity shop
where finding a posh frock
is as good as winning the lottery.

Mom treasured them as much as
he detested them
like a child in anticipation of a very special treat
she'd always pounce on
that find
above anything
you'd purchase in a designer store.
To give her her dues
she always did come home
with labels,
hence always looking like a million dollars.

Christmas 2015,
flicking through last week's paper
he spots a pic of Mom's boss's wife
parading Mom's frock
at a charity do
to be cast off days later and
donated to castoffs
working their
fingers to the bone
at her husband's factory
for peanuts.

Dream Poem – The Green, Green Grass Beyond the Wall

Dream Poem - The Green, Green Grass Beyond the Wall

The Green, Green Grass Beyond the Wall is a dream poem, a reflection on seeking change when and where necessary.

The Green, Green Grass Beyond the Wall

The grass beyond the wall, yes, it's greener on the far side of 
the fence. So what if I'd like to run my naked toes across a
thick lawn, not have them grazed by gravel and broken glass? Am
I to fell my pine for greener pastures? And what of the wall,
a fence taller than the Empire State building? The machinegun-
armed guards won't mow me down, won't cut the stalk between me
and my daisies of pastures greener than a Granny Smith. The
thorn-wire fence garnishing the wall won't stop me from hopping
the wall like a grasshopper, faster than a bullet, sharper than
a nail. 'Cause grasshoppers know how to jump fences higher than
the Eiffel Tower to reach pastures greener than lizards. Frogs
do too and kangaroos. If they do, so can I. So, don't tell me
to blot out the green, green grass beyond the wall.

PTSD Poem – Mary

PTSD poem - Mary

This is a PTSD poem and a tribute to Mary, a wonderful old lady I was privileged to meet many years ago. Mary was elegant, stunning, delicate, and fierce.

Mary – PTSD Poem

They say a bomb hit the hospital where nurse Mary was working 
during the Second World War. Her frail body is still trembling,
her mind blown to pastures afar, her hunch back and scrawny
legs dancing on the streets of Dublin, sock in hand stuffed to
the brim with coins gifted by passersby doing their good deed
for the day until the stocking gets snatched by a herd of unruly
youths with nothing better to do.

In the evenings, Mary gets her dinner at the shelter where she
resides and sings old hymns, unscrews the lid of the coffee jar,
dips in a spoon and proceeds to sprinkle the granules across the
floor tracing delicate steps whispering "set them free, set them
free." Sometimes, she sows mashed potatoes or baked beans,
yesterday, she unchained demerara sugar, delighted.

Only locked doors at night or a hot bath she doesn't want to have
stoke and lay bare Mary's raw muscle, sharp nails, and sirens,
extinguish her grace, her soft glow and glint. Once soaking
among bubbles, the shower hose helps Mary set free a flood of
drops. After the bath, she's still and sips lemon tea, converses
until it's time to be gone again.

Spring Equinox Poems – Balance

Spring Equinox Poems - Balance

Balance is one of many spring equinox poems, a reflection on the scarcity of true balance in the world, people, and societies.

Balance – Spring Equinox Poems

She knows the scales
and weights and volumes
of lead and feathers
of blood and water
of bread and gravel.

Her sister taught her
how to blunt shadows
and taper the light.

Like the blue moon,
she owns a house
craving windows,
a door to the east,
a door to the west,

conjuring flight,
sparse between
the tick and the tock
of the clock.

Equality Poem – Robin Hood, Where Are You?

Equality Poem - Robin Hood, Where Are You?

Robin Hood, Where Are You? is an equality poem highlighting the global inequality crisis affecting billions of people. The wealth gap continues to grow.

Robin Hood, Where Are You?

Dear Robin

I know you’re dead a few hundred years, some say, you didn’t even exist, are but a fantasy figure made up for pure entertainment, but anyhow, I know better.

I feel compelled to write to you and urge you to come here at once. You see, we need your help right now. Where? I hear you ask. 

Let me put your mind at rest first. No, the Sheriff of Nottingham hasn’t returned to throw his weight around once more. But the trouble is, he’s got many successors who’ve taken on his ways. They live off the poor, are cruel and greedy, just like he was when you took matters into your own hands. Why can’t we do the same? I hear you ask.

Well, we’re not as brave and clever as you. Some have tried, more have failed. And now, most people live off crumbs and a handful of folks live the life of Reilly. If only you could get yourself down here on your best horse and do what you did all those years ago. 


So, please hurry, this is an emergency! I can assure you, you’d be a hero once more.

Yours truly.

Friar Tuck

PS: Feel free to bring Lady Marian for support
PPS: We need you in Australia, Africa, Europe, New Zeeland, Asia. the Americas, and Antartica, so you’ll be busy for a while!

Equality Poem – Robin Hood, Where are You?

Consumerism Poem – Dear Sales Manager

Consumerism Poem - Dear Sales Manager

Dear Sales Manager is a consumerism poem, a reflection on how producers and salespeople get the masses to purchase large quantities of consumer goods.

Dear Sales Manager

Dear Mr Salesman

This morning, I cracked your code while eating a bowl of cereal and flicking through a magazine packed with adverts. I should have copped on to your tricks ages ago but was too consumed by my insecurities, many of which, incidentally, you created to cover your tracks.

I picture you sitting in a boardroom with your fellow suits hatching a plan to increase sales.

How to get the masses to consume more of our goods? Easy! Make them feel shit about themselves and convince them that our product will sort them out.

How? By plastering picture perfect shiny happy people using our product all over everywhere. Let’s not forget to diss flaws, ridicule failure, and snigger at poverty.

By the end of the week, the idiot masses will feel so bad about themselves that they’ll run out and buy tonnes of our stuff!

And that’s how you operate and make more, and more, and more money / manufacturing and riding our insecurities and fears.

I’m wanted to drop you this note to tell you that I’m out and won’t fall for it anymore. I don’t need your stuff to feel ok about myself. Thanks, but no thanks!

No longer yours truly!

Ms X

Consumerism Poem – Dear Sales Manager

The World Bank Explained

The poem was inspired by the following short John Perkins video, explaining the way the world bank operates.

What are your thoughts on this? Please let me know in the comments below!