Biography
I am a recent immigrant from Ireland who has been writing for a long time, though as a subordinate activity to my activism. I have had agitprop plays performed during my time in Ireland and a documentary broadcast on RTE in 1998. I have had some poems published in now defunct) political journals. I currently read (perform) at the Dead Good Poets in Liverpool. I seek to have recent satirical sketches performed -the themes are from the current political degeneration of Britain and Western Europe and the culture of self-supervision. I also have a number of short stories touting for publication and a novel in progress.
I have just finished a play called 'Comfort', which I am touting to festivals and theatre companies.Set in an psycho-therapy call centre.
Samples
Death of a leader
When I heard of your death, I thought of tartan,
Your skirt’s red plaid, rebellion’s stale disguise,
Tasted bitter coffee ,that welcome spartan,
For us, whose virgin ardour hailed you wise.
In a basement room you sat before our fire ,
Heard us conjure an end to this world of lies,
Call criminal the loves which could not aspire
To build your clockwork logic’s paradise.
Our youth neither poverty nor danger feared,
In factory and street greed’s bane we fought,
Then far utopias fell and your decrees appeared,
Sordid ,without the robes our faith had bought..
You twisted love into hooks , truth into lures ,
To capture souls more generous than yours.
Legacy
Behind ivy- draped garden walls,
‘For-sale’ signs ,pretty colored lollipop heads
Of Royal blue,,signal red, zinc white ,apple green
On fresh-wood yellow sticks,
Spring up, in this the autumn of our greed.
Brightly in sign language they bespeak
The autism of your need , heralding the hour
To vacate the penthouse flat, hawk the terraced
Two-up, two-down, once the migrant navvy’s crown,.
You who scorned to name a humble house a home ,
A place where the heart is, to lay the weary head ,
But chortled to the banker and the old schoolfriend
‘Finger my portfolio of undeveloped property,
Not dwellings these, but tradeable blocks of equity,
Counters, chips ,items in a gambler’s game.
Treasure pots for the daring , cages for the tame.’
So You climbed the property ladder,
The rungs you stole, you wrecked the frame
All came apart, and you’ve landed on your hole.
What price your outdoor hot-tub now?
The shares of time you sold on-line
To fund that villa in the South of France ??
You have to leave the roof , but take the floor!
It’s time to do the Benefits Shuffle,
Learn the family- credit dance.
Know your place, stand in line,
practise the Disability whine,
chant and pant to invoke the ghost
of Margaret Thatcher, that kiddies’ milk- snatcher,
Transatlantic carrier of the virus of greed,
Oh what a carry-on! You caught her bird ‘flu ,
You thought it gave you wings to fly
to a higher social station, now you beg
the socialist splint to heal your painful
dislocation, dislocation, dislocation.
Remember how you beckoned skeksis Thatcher,
Corporate Thatcher, the vulture - hatcher ,
Into the nest? Cuckoo- style she had you
incubate the scavenger’s egg ,and when .
the birds flew, beyond your ladder’s reach they soared ,
In spotting carrion , unerring they have grown!
Those vultures are coming home to roost,
Move out, clear off! the nest was just on loan!
And if you need more balm to salve your hurt.
Repeat this mantra when they re-possess;
Less is more, loss is mere,
You’re not without a home,
Merely property
-less..
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Last blog entry
Posted on Tuesday 1st June 2010 8:29 am
Tuesday 6 and Wednesday 7 July
Patchwork Theatre Present
Comfort
Redundancy has followed Rob around like a stray dog, but,as a counsellor for Personal Agony Relax and 
Release Call Centre [PARRCC] he begins to believe he has found his niche. With a talent for adding to company scripts Rob is noticed by the directors of [PARRCC] and he is invited to become the model for their AVATAR project.
Hope some of my fellow poets will come along - . Steve Smith
Previous: white cat hunting
View or make comments. (1 comment)
Ann Foxglove
Mon 31st May 2010 16:39
Just logged in to thank you for your lovely comment on Grains. I was thinking that the last bit needed a bit of work! I loved your white cat hunting poem by the way! And enjoyed Death of a Leader. "You twisted love into hooks , truth into lures ,
To capture souls more generous than yours." is a great line. Look forward to more poems from you!