Tony Kasazkaja

Biography

Tony expresses raw and deep emotion throughout each of his poems, my personal favourite is “Shadows on the wall” his poetry is always well thought out and beautifully written, he knows how to touch an audiences heart by drawing on personal experiences that many of us encounter, I look forward to reading more of his work in the future. Emma Viles – UK Based Poet Tony Kasazkaja, a great new talent in the world of poetry; with Tony, you get dark and light, deep and bright, with a refreshing enthusiasm and spirit in his performances. Supporting other poets and their work with his heart on his sleeve, he is sure to go far, I look forward to much more…. Jeffarama! – UK Based Poet & Promoter Tony is willing to travel the length and breadth of the country for an opportunity to perform his poetry. His enthusiasm knows no boundaries. I first saw him at Cuckoo Calling, a night I host, in Prestwich, Manchester. It was obvious that he wrote from the heart, drawing on personal experience. His poetry can take you into some dark places, but he has a strong sense of equality and justice which ultimately guides you back into the light. I’m sure this, his first collection won’t be his last…… Gordon Zola – UK Based Poet & Promoter Brought back memories of my times on the street. Looking back theres a sort of romantic sheen, ah! life on the open road, but in reality , I starved, was lonely, only access to libraries kept me going and you dont notice your own smell. I saw my reflection in a shop window and didnt recognize myself. Thank you for this poem, your words and style take my breath away and plunge a knife into my heart. Fucking brilliant , mate A P Staunton – UK Based Poet – Regarding “Her Name Was Amanda”

Samples

The Hero A Nation Forgot A cold, lonely soldier stands abandoned among a busy city crowd, his strength departed from him long ago, no longer is he proud, to have put his life on the line for a country that once he loved, for the people that he held close to his heart and for each one of us. He was subjected to a war where he fought so long and hard. his body now stands broken, his mind tormented and scarred, now that the government have taken away his human rights, he no longer has a safe place where he can rest his head at night. In one way he was lucky, he found his way home, he made it through, although it seems like these unforgiving streets hold a different view, he wishes that he had died on those fields of heartache and despair, for now he lives in a lonely world where nobody ever seems to care. Instead of listening to his story, people laugh at him on their way past, he wishes that old age hadn’t managed to creep up on him so fast, for he was once considered a hero, highly commended and respected, although those days seem to have abandoned him as he stands rejected. He often finds himself questioning what it was that they were fighting for, as he watched each one of his friends die on those far off distant shores, the medals that he wears serve as a constant painful reminder of his test, an agonising reminder of how he was once considered one of England’s best. Although the faces that once he knew, are now all deceased and long gone, he remembers their names and the stories they’d tell, each and everyone, they were warriors and together in unity they paid the ultimate sacrifice, oh what he would give to now be able to walk beside them in Paradise. As a nation what do we do in return for the blood that our soldiers shed, though we hear the tortured cries of our veterans, not a tear do we shed, how often do we provide them with assistance and show them we care, that still in the dark streets of home, they fight another war out there. whilst our government hastily raises the taxes, they spare no thought, to the countless men and women with whose life their power was bought, as they face a new kind of hell, wondering how on earth they will survive, politicians treat themselves to a luxury house and a flash new car to drive. A great injustice has been served and for them there may be no turning back, wherever they seek shelter from the rain, the police are always on the attack, the home office sworn to protect them dont care, as they turn their faces away, the streets where once homes could be found, torn down and bulldozed away. To build more offices for wealthy corporations, just how many do they need, not that the executives give a damn, as more money brings even more greed, there is no more great left in Britain, the whole system is broken and defect, when veterans have no place to sleep and become societies rejects. (c) copyright Tony Kasazkaja 2015. all rights reserved.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Blog entries by Tony Kasazkaja

Her Name Was Amanda (11/10/2015)

The Enchantment of a Woman (11/10/2015)

Poverty In The UK (11/10/2015)

It's Time to Be A Man My Son (11/10/2015)

Mockingbird (11/10/2015)

Next Year Will Be Different (11/10/2015)

The Revolving Door Still Shut (11/10/2015)

Manipulation (11/10/2015)

Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/tonykasazkaja