The Ballad of the Hijab Matyr

The Ballad of the Hijab Matyr
(sung to Bob Dylan’s “Shelter from the cold”)

It was in a district courthouse in Dresden in July
A pregnant mum gave witness as the sun shone up on high
Within a flash, the blood it gushed, the man held tight his blade
I’ve killed, he said, a terrorist and enemy of the state.

The husband caught his wife and let her hijab fall
He cast an eye at the small outcry of his toddler in the stalls
Armed guards charged in and shot at him, he fell onto his face
We thought, they after said, he was an enemy of the state.

Mustafa was the toddler and he’d seen this man before
Last Summer on the swings when he’d called his mum a whore
A scary man, with staring eyes, he’d shouted in her face
“That thing”, he’d spat “upon your head is an enemy of the state.”

And now it’s one year later, the world’s eyes are on this case
“Justice for the hijab matyr", clammers from the Middle East
For the pharmacist who lost her life
For her husband’s disfigured gait
For Mustafa whose swing was taken from him by the enemy of his state.

Nov 2009

Ballade of BNP on QT

The lights flick on, the panel take their place
Bulldog Britain enters with a smile smug but tight
DD, centre stage, shifts his glasses on his face:
“Welcome to Question Time this Thursday night.”
TV viewers know this is a controversial verbal fight to prove free speech must let fascists have their say,
well debated facts will air what’s right.
The BNP is here today.

The bulldog hides his teeth all through this chase
“‘Indigenous Brits’ he says to Bobby Greer, not 'Whites'.
It’s not about colour or a Master Race.
Its England for the English”, and he’d like to see: “bogus asylum seekers denied the right
to take British jobs and given leave to stay.
Stop the immigrant flood undermining Britain’s might.”
The BNP is here today.

The mixed faced audience voice declare he’s a disgrace.
So for whom in this nation does he shine a light?
The 2 million jobless workers who feel displaced,
those who have consumed the “war on terror” sound bite,
those angry at the bottom of the great divide,
where privilege speaks of rights but augments its pay
though votes are cast this class keeps full its plate.
The BNP is here today.

Nick Griffen, MEP, parades at parliament’s gates
and British politics is turning grey,
disenchanted voters beware the vacuum state.
The BNP is here today.

Nov 2009

My T.O.P. child

On clear crisp nights I contemplate the stars,
vision my dead born child giggling at me there
pattering its tiny feet round mars
where freaks and lost souls don’t need human care.
I pray you understand my brutal choice.
I saved you from earth’s deal of constant pain,
from a short life, if lived, on life support.
And my body back, the chance to try again.

Those 13 weeks we reigned, then lost your father.
Within 6 months he found a youthful womb,
your half sister came just one year later
reduced your mum to mistress meetings at full moon.
Your short life ripped away love’s cosy cover,
new tangled hopes will swaddle your soon born brother.

Nov 2009