Oh yes,

The moronic inferno

Burns brightly these days

And nights

Almost as bright in fact

As the ever-glowing Northern Lights.

And the morons dance round their blazing fires

Hurtling insults to their hearts desires

Pontificating cluelessly,

About the economy – stupid! – and their messy

Sexual habits

With all the morals of a world of rutting rabbits,

And their institutionalised racism

Which they deliver verbatim –

I am not racist BUT…

What if the shoe was on the other foot?




Don’t drive while you’re black
‘Cos you may get stopped on the way back
From wherever you have been
Doing bad things to country and queen

Never drive when you’re black
Looking for white people to attack
‘Cos that’s a crime too
Though it’s okay to drive when you’re blue

Driving while black
Means you could get shot in the back
For turning left or failing to stop
By some trigger-happy, non-black cop

Some other ‘crimes’ while being black;
Smoking while black
Learning while black
Walking while black
Shopping while black
Eating while black

In fact almost any damn thing while black




Malkey, have you got a chink in your armour?
I wouldn’t be surprised, Dave
The little blighters get everywhere

How many dogs did you keep in Cardiff, Malkey?
More than enough to fill the team when I was there.
Did you hear the one about the Brit, Malkey? And the Paddy,
The Jock, the Taffy, the Jew and the Paki…
That’s racist, Dave!
Cor blimey!
Are you sure you’re a Limey?


I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,
When he beats his bars and would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings –
I know why the caged bird sings


Maya Angelou has died. Poet, activist, actor, writer,dancer, cook and much more besides. She joined the Harlem Writers Guild in the late 1950’s, where she met her friend and mentor James Baldwin. After hearing Dr. Martin Luther King speak for the first time in 1960 she joined the Civil Rights Movement, and later worked for Malcolm X.

Maya wrote seven volumes of autobiography, starting with I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS, and described her writing process as ‘regimented’. She would get up at five in the morning and check into a hotel room, where the staff had been instructed to remove any pictures from the walls. She wrote on legal pads while lying on the bed, with a bottle of sherry, a deck of cards to play solitaire, Roget’s Thesaurus and the Bible, and would leave by the early afternoon. She averaged 10–12 pages of material a day in this manner, which she then edited down to three or four pages in the evening. Tough going!

Maya is put here

 Who will sing the praises of the poets now?

who the deeds of men?

with Maya dead the muses are silent

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird sings of freedom


First review is in for NO BLACKS, NO DOGS, NO POLES. The reviewer sees the play as ‘a new look at an old problem’ and gives it a fairly decent write-up. I was pleased with it, and I think the cast can be too. There are several more reviews due out on Wed/Thurs this week. Looking forward to them!


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