Between the Wars

Indigo blue
Inky canvas
One eye open
The other protesting
The estate slumbers
Another day of lockdown
A neighbourhood painted
In shades of apathy
As the world mourns
Its sorry dead

Beryl wakes at the crow
Of the cockerel
Says hello to her husband
Enjoying a pint in Heaven
For the last twenty years
Says a prayer to the virgin Mary
And asks Jesus to save her soul
From the coronavirus
God is her insurance policy
As she ain’t finished yet
In this heathen world

It reminds her of the war
But the bombs don’t fall
And the men aren’t swallowed
Into certain suicide
She would cower inside the
Air raid shelter
As the Luftwaffe played
Russian roulette
Missiles raining down
Picking off saints and sinners alike
And she prayed to Jesus
And he did good

Now the bombs are silent
Yet the killer is stealth-like
Stealing souls
Like a pandemic shoplifter
Light fingered Kelly
Is in good company
Though I’m sure the virus
Ain’t interested in Maybelline
Or L’oreal

Churchill led the nation
Now we have the Tories
No let up from fear mongering
As the media perform
In their catastrophic circus
And the BBC peddle tragedy
Like Boris Johnson is MacBeth
Whilst the government deny
Their role
In digging mass graves
To herd the old
And vulnerable in

She tucks into her egg
And Tetley’s
Another day of inane daytime TV
She heard that people Facetime
But she has no tribe
Jesus is her saviour
And God is her father
And the Virgin Mary
Sheds a tear
For the children
She lost

©2020 Sarah Drury

Coronavirus Mum

WARNING: A FEW SWEAR WORDS

Hands up who’s starting to go mental, cooped up all day, every day, with their nearest and dearest? In my house, it’s just my almost-teen son and I and its challenging! I often go to an open mic night called ‘Away With Words’ in Hull, and due to Coronavirus, the events have gone online. I’ve written this to perform for that event. It’s hopefully a bit of tongue-in-cheek fun!

I must defiantly admit it
I didn’t think coronavirus
Would be so fucking shit
As I’m dragging out my son
From his tweenage stinking boy pit
And he’s sleeping in old pj’s
Cos I ain’t washed shit and nothing fits
It’s hard when you’re alone
And you’re on your own and life is shit
And he’s twelve years old and a bit

I didn’t think home ed
Would be so wrong
Didn’t think that every morning
He’d be singing me a sob song
That I’m working him like Jesus
And Tenko is his theme song
That his friends don’t do no work
And I’m being a cruel bitch all along
Why is my son so fucking headstrong?

I didn’t think self isolation
Would go on forever
I used to think that propaganda’s
Boris just being clever
I always hoped that we would never
Stand so close together
I’m loving that I walk around
In no clothes whatsoever
And that shaving all my hairy bits’
No longer an endeavour
But who needs a shag these days?
Wherever? Whenever?
Our sexy bits will heal up forever!

I didn’t think that shopping
Would be such a joke
I never thought I’d need two hundred
Toilet rolls fought off a bloke
Going round grabbing pasta needing
Harry Potter’s magic cloak
Can’t loiter round the entrance
Choking back a wacky baccy smoke
Standing two metres away
From your hostile Tesco queueing folk
Get your hand sanitiser out
And punch that bloke.

I must defiantly admit it
I didn’t think coronavirus
Would be so fucking shit
I can see half of the country
Panic buying rampant rabbits
And the other half are drowning
In the bog roll when they have to sit
In social distanced bathrooms
With their virus manky halfwits
And folk all over England
Are falling into death pits
When will our fucking country
Get their act together with this shit?
In another six months and a bit!

©2020 Sarah Drury

Safety Sold Her Soul to the Devil

WARNING: SWEARING
WARNING: POTENTIAL TRIGGER (DOMESTIC ABUSE)

I know we are supposed to be staying at home safe, but for many families this must be hell. With calls to the domestic violence charities increasing by 125 percent this is a frightening statistic. Covid-19 has created more than one monster!

Sylvia was sick of this
Covid shit
Feeding hungry kids
Nourishing a wanker
And she went without
She was the bottom
Of this bullshit
Heirarchy
Her stomach had shrunk
Though not with starvation
But blows of fists
And punchbag jabs
Venom exhaling from
His every bullying breath
She was sick of fighting
Invisible defeats
She feared for her kids
She was shit scared
Underneath
The battered bravado

Sylvia wasn’t a looker
She’d easily pass
For a cut price hooker
Greasy blonde locks
Roots as imposing
As a Jehovah’s Witness
When you’re trying
To have a fuck
With the devil
The odd tooth graced her
Docker’s gob
Through which the
Profanities whistled
And the fuck you’s
Fucked you

The odd tooth departed
When the abusive
Loser let his flimsy
Free reign fists
Caress her feisty mouth
And her smudgy
Panda eyed styling
Wasn’t L’Oreal
Or Maybelline
It may have been
When
She was
Five minutes late
Fixing his bastard tea

Smack!
The kids are driving me
Fucking insane
Smash!
When are you going
To Fuck me again?
Smack!
You’ve been fucking
That other bloke again!
Smash!
You want to know why
I fucking hate you?
Don’t give me
Another reason to
Blame you
Cos let’s not admit
I’m an arsehole

She was supposed to be home
Keeping safe
But the government
Don’t live with monsters
They don’t have vaccines
For dickhead abusers
Only coffins
For the beaten
and
Abused

©2020 Sarah Drury

We are Great Britain

Well, we are in the midst of a global pandemic. Covid-19 has infiltrated every aspect of our lives! Here in Great Britain, we are in lockdown. At the moment we can only leave our houses for essential food shopping, collecting medication and one session of exercise a day. It may get even more confined as the virus reaches its peak. I never thought I would ever see anything on this scale in my lifetime. It is like a war but we cannot see the invisible enemy and we have no defence except quarantine. Here is my ode to Great Britain…

We are Great Britain
We are the brave and afraid
United in our fight against
A silent killer, invisible to our curtailed eyes
We thrive in times of compromise
A resilient nation
Born of grandfathers who knew no word but pride
The haunting times of war
Back then are echoed in this fight against the silent enemy
A nightmare we are living
But a dream that silhouettes itself in cloaks we cannot see
A dream that does not differentiate between the screams of you and me.

For we are Great Britain
We grit our teeth and keep our fears beneath
Our trembling egos
Hiding our terror
Hoping these draconian measures aren’t forever
Hoping the doors in the outside world
Aren’t closed for business for too long
Braving the wrath of the food shops
Gritting our teeth and staying strong
As the mindless stockpile food
And the homeless are left to die in the gutter
And toilet rolls become a priceless commodity
And the pockets of the pharmaceutical companies just become fatter
As the ugliness of humanity rears its head in wanton greed
And we don’t give a shit about the rest of the people
As long as our family’s arses will be clean
We will worship in secular churches without a heavenly steeple
And you can say that they’re selfish
You can say that they’re mean
But it’s self preservation in a global scheme
Of fear.

For we are Great Britain
We cower behind our green front doors
Like animals trapped in cages
Zoo specimens walking on two feet instead of four
We keep our doors tightly shut against the bacteria and sickness
We wash our hands ten hundred times a day
We sanitise, we obliterate, we obsessively
Scrub our justified fears and insecurities away
Don’t touch that infected door
Don’t stand near me less than two metres
Don’t let the kids go out to play
Don’t breathe your dirty air
Don’t let the family come and stay

For we are Great Britain
As we watch our Boris on TV and he tries to lead a nation
Against an enemy we cannot see
Each night he makes a brave and science informed declaration
But deep beneath his bravado
He must be feeling the sting of condemnation
He never signed up for this shit
He never had a notion
He would become an icon
In a state of emergency

For we are Great Britain
We are parents battling with home education
We are fans battling with no footy on tv
We are nurses tending the desperate and sick
We are doctors fighting this pandemic, this nightmare that’s running free
We are the shopkeepers keeping the nation fed
We are the care workers tending the sick and weak
We are the teachers teaching the kids whose parents
Are sacrificing their health
These selfless beings, what a risk to take
And the volunteers who their comfort and safety have swapped
We are the drivers getting food to your shops
For the benefit of this country
And we salute you all
In a time where even the strong can fall
We salute you Great Britain
We will get through this
And we will get to the finishing line
Still standing proud and tall.

©2020 Sarah Drury

Privilege

I know there will be mixed feelings about this poem, but i was furious to learn that Prince Charles had received a test for Covid-19 when he had mild symptoms, when we have frontline NHS and healthcare workers risking their lives and not being able to get a test! Boils my pee!!

Don’t want a big political argument about this, we are all entitled to our own views.

Here’s a rant called ‘privilege’.

Privilege

Your privilege
Turns my blood
As cold as a cadaver in death
Lips blue
Tainted in death wish hues
With the colour of your politics
Doctors, nurses
Angels on the frontline
Your sacrifice isn’t adequate
For a vital test.

Heir to the throne
Cherished by the patriarchy
Whilst our health workers,
Heartlessly thrown
Between a rock
And a hard place
Courage doesn’t matter
When, placed between your lips
When you gasped at birth
Was a silver spoon
As you inhaled
The immunity
Of gentry.

Your privilege
Turns my blood
As cold as a cadaver in death
And I die
Of shame
At the injustice
Of society.

©2020 Sarah Drury

Exhausted

Just a bit of a poem i wrote about the current situation…

Exhausted

I am exhausted
Dragging these weary bones through invisible wars
TV blaring its cacophony in the corner
Corvid-19 holding me prisoner within these self isolated doors
My child climbing the walls and pleading for some freedom
I feel like getting down on the floor and praying on all fours

Boris
Spouting his rhetoric from the media, the BBC
Trying to be a strong leader, trying not to let the public see
He’s a scared little boy
Why the fuck do I pay my tv license fee
To watch this repetitive shit
Running from the screen like a stream of neurotic pee
You will die if you go outside
Stay the hell two metres away from me.

The pandemic, the pandemic
I cry as I watch the brave face of the medic
Who died
And my son is oblivious when I shit myself
And he asked me why I was crying
And I lied
Because I am a mum
And mums can’t be scared
I have no support, I’m alone
Like every fucker’s alone
In our antibacterial bubbles
Picking over the psychological rubble
Of the mental health fallout
Of the emotional war that this battle’s really about

Give us three months and the country will be fucked
Government will be bankrupt
And I will be tearing down the walls of this home
With my tooth bitten nails
Teaching my son, but the schools are shut
And the system always fails
To see that we are mums and dads and grans and grandads
And some of has haven’t got a fucking clue
What this education role entails
And we’re tearing our hair
And beating our supressed, fearful hearts
And swimming in seas of uncertainty
That are tearing us all apart

But we will win this war
That goes much deeper than a rampant virus
And our heads will be neurotic sheds
As the futility of this pandemic destroys us and toys with us
But I am a mum
And I cannot be scared
I have an autistic son
I cannot be scared
I cannot be scared.

©2020 Sarah Drury