Chapters (148)
- Cover
- Title page
- Dedication
- Introduction
- From Perceptions of the Pen (1985)
- Well ‘I’
- Mother
- Ain’t No
- Scream
- So Near and yet So Near
- As Is Life
- From Tender Fingers in a Clenched Fist (1988)
- African Metaphor
- Listening
- Nursery Rhyme
- Some Quotes from Neatherton Man found in Deepest England Somewhere between 1974 and 1980
- Negotiations
- Englabetween
- What Have We Got
- Moods of Rain
- Wasita
- Sing a Song of Sick Penance
- The Black Writers’ Workshop
- Understanding Difference
- The Day Will Come
- The Invasion of the Mancunoids
- The Red Death of Edgar Allan Poe
- Trying Me
- Dead Wood Poetry
- Fell Off and Fell Out
- Bad Trip – L.S.D.
- Burn My Book (Burn In Illusion)
- Tense Tattered Tortured Tried Tested and Torn
- Mother Thatcher
- Today Will Pass
- Spell Bound
- Gold from the Stone
- Everything Is Rhythmical
- Sleep Is a Songbird
- Director’s Notes (For the Daily Shun and Daily Killer)
- She Read as She Cradled
- City Sigh
- Spell Me Freedom
- Interim and Cost
- Ace Under My Sleeve
- Traces
- The Show Goes On
- From Rebel without Applause (1992)
- Bearing Witness
- Remember How We Forgot
- Fingerprints
- Occupations
- Boiling Up
- Instant Consciousness
- Airmail to a Dictionary
- The Customs Men
- Mind-Walking
- For My Headstone
- Love Poem
- Flowers in the Kitchen
- Suitcases and Muddy Parks
- The Nest
- Pass It On
- Going Places
- Gil Scott-Heron
- Godsell
- Flushed
- I Hate You
- Professional Black
- Pretoria Pit
- Uncle Tom and the 1990s
- Clear as Day Storms
- My Brother
- Children and Company
- Writer’s Blockocks
- The Black Moon
- Brinkley Park
- Rage
- From Morning Breaks in the Elevator (1999)
- The Waitress and the Nights of the Round Table
- Colour Blind
- Charlie’s Playing Blackjack
- Invisible Kisses
- Slipping
- Murdering Bill
- Immigration R.S.V.P.
- Fair
- The Repossession: Lot 67
- Baptism in Mire
- Controlled Explosions
- Children’s Home
- Walking in Circles
- My Dad Is a Pilot
- Guilt
- Sandwich Love
- The Elevator
- A Flock of Sound
- The Graduate and Her Secret Thesis
- The Bruise
- Quiet Places
- Mourning Breaks
- From Listener (2008)
- Let There Be Peace
- Rain
- The Actor’s Voice
- Patterns
- Laying the Table
- Perfect
- Gambian Holiday Maker
- Listener
- Ricochet
- Elephant in the Room
- Architecture
- Moving Mountains
- Manchester Piccadilly
- Some Things I Like
- The Lost Key
- **** This
- Magpie
- Before We Get Into This
- Advice for the Living
- The Battle of Adwa, 1896
- The Gilt of Cain
- Applecart Art
- I Will Not Speak Ill of the Dead
- Transistor
- This Train (Sing Along)
- Spring: Mayday Mayday
- Barley Field
- The Boxer
- Torch
- New Poems
- What If
- Whale Translation
- The Spark Catchers
- Shipping Good
- Open Up
- Night Mails
- Lock and Quay
- Listening Post
- Fallen
- Belong
- Rest
- Adventure Flight
- Endnotes
- Index of Titles
- Index of First Lines
To take away
Why not stay?
Instead you
People breathe
Bodies seethe
Babies teeth
And underneath
Is the
City sigh,
Got to fly,
Don’t know why.
Live, man, die.
Spell Me Freedom
Spell Me Freedom
Spell me freedom
And make it simple,
So when I eat
It shall not make me sick.
Spell me freedom
And make the ingredients carefully,
So when I drink
It does not make me choke.
Spell me freedom
And whisper it quietly,
So when we speak
It does not give me a headache.
Spell me freedom
And bake it fresh,
So when I’m thirsty
It shall not make me dry.
Spell me freedom
And stir it quickly,
So when I taste
It shall not burn my tongue.
Spell me freedom
And tell the joke well,
So that when I laugh
It shall not unveil into hopeless tears.
Spell me freedom
And cradle each word,
That when I use them
They shall not crack like spines.
Interim and Cost
Interim and Cost
So who has lost,
Paid the cost?
Whatever is said,
Whatever is said.
Whatever is known,
Whatever is known.
Whatever is done,
Whatever is done.
Whatever is trust,
Whatever is trust.
Whatever is written,
Whatever is written.
Whatever is truth,
Whatever is truth.
Whatever is lost,
Whatever is lost.
Who has paid the cost?
Ace Under My Sleeve
Ace Under My Sleeve
British? Black and beautiful.
Check it out, my friend, we’re radical.
And let us give
The will to live
To those who eat yet are not full.
The rose that grew up from the thorn,
The soil is good so throw the corn,
And let us feel
This fruit is real
For youth to eat from whence they’re born.
Eradicate the ignorance
By positive deliverance,
So what we say
In any way
Is nothing but the truth enhanced.
Let us not cry to a crier
Nor look up when we are higher.
It’s not hard
To play the card.
Come, let the truth confront the liar.
British? Black and beautiful.
Check it out, my friend, we’re radical.
And let us give
The will to live
To those who eat yet are not full.
Traces
Traces
Dust spurts from the track
In the kick of a racing heel
And settles awaiting finale.
Smoke circles the lightbulb,
Painting the air a rich blue.
Shadows scamper past
Like the flick of a cigarette
To rest in the mirror lake.
Water gurgles down the plughole
Like a frightened mouse,
To disappear into echoing chatter.
The door shuts to the howling wind
In the wake of pressure.
Traces
Of what could have been,
Of what was.
The Show Goes On
The Show Goes On
The Arts Council criteria for funding is to conform,
So if they pay the revolution, the revolution will perform.
And if you can write along this dotted line your role in this society
Then you can play allegiance to the notorious great race robbery.