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
It’s through your eyes I’d like to see.
Mother, will you criticise?
Mother, will you see it through my eyes?
Mother, what will you say to me?
Mother, will you read my poetry?
Am I just what you want me to be?
Mother, will you see it through my eyes?
Mother, what will you say to me?
Am I just what you want me to be,
Or, Mother, will you criticise?
Mother, will you see it through my eyes?
Ain’t No
Ain’t No
Ain’t no clothes to wear, no
Ain’t nobody to know
Ain’t nowhere to come, nowhere to go
Ain’t no belongings that last
Ain’t no reminder of no past
Ain’t no reason to give
Ain’t no reason to live
Ain’t no love to take
Ain’t no love to fake
Ain’t no reason to cheat
Ain’t no body to beat
Ain’t no body to belong
Ain’t no one heard this song
Ain’t even got a tune
Ain’t even got a bloom
Ain’t no mother
Ain’t no father
Ain’t no sister
Ain’t no brother
Ain’t no light for my cigarette
Ain’t no cigarette . . .
Scream
Scream
Don’t take what I have because what I have is me.
Don’t steal my mind because it’s nearly free.
How can I stay unpolluted,
Live in this world and still keep my head?
The things that I’m seeing is mind-blowing insight,
And the war that I’m fighting is a mind-blowing fight.
And the love that I’m feeling is less than a drip in a stream.
And the feel that I’m feeling is scream . . .
So Near and yet So Near
So Near and yet So Near
There’s a man who lives in a London apartment,
And he’s really blowing his mind,
Says it’s the fault of the government.
And he thinks he’s going blind,
Because all he sees is darkness,
But he says it’s all a lark, yes.
There’s a beggar who lives on his weak, so weak, knees
And he says he’s losing his head,
Claims it’s the fault of the zombies,
And the people in power are the living dead.
Says he thinks he’s going to die,
But he knows it’s the living dead who lie.
There’s a teacher who lives in a school,
And he says he’s going wild.
He says he knows what they are doing,
And everybody is filed.
He says he’s going to learn
What the children should know,
Says he’s started to burn,
But he cannot melt the snow.
There’s a policeman who lives in a cell,
Says his job’s like living in hell.
Says he must be heaven sent,
’Cause he’s the only one who knows it’s bent.
Yes, he wishes he could fly