Bullshit

I live on a big council estate and some of the youths are having trouble with their social distancing.

This is dedicated to them.

WARNING: SWEARING (for they most definitely don’t speak like the Queen ha!)

Gangs of youths
Balaclavad faces
Trainers choked with mud
From a prohibited space
No one’s gonna force us
To pissing well embrace
This social distancing
Propaganda rat race
It’s all fucking
Bullshit

Wayward teens
Parents don’t give a shit
If we’re lacing up
Another coronavirus hit
Delinquents, wear the face
If it damn well fits
Only give a damn
If your hair is on fleek
It’s all fucking
Bullshit

Loitering around
Pissed and stoned
Fucking around
Making Tik Toks on our phones
Breathing the death air
Spreading toxic with our bones
Ringing out the death knolls
With our knocked off iPhones
It’s all fucking
Bullshit

Best friend’s gone now
Intensive care
Didn’t give a shit
Pissed his chances in the air
Fucking his fate
Over a told you so chair
Just another news story
For the BBC to share
It’s all fucking
Bullshit

©2020 Sarah Drury

Kindergarden Jesus

WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

Based on the truth

Kindergarden Jesus

You stand there
Surrounded by littl’uns
Like some kind of
Kindergarden Jesus
You wear graciousness divinely
Like a designer label
Without the ostentation

‘Sarah’ you exclaim
And I want to lay you down
When I hear my name
Spoken like a Psalm
From your deity of a tongue
Two can play this
‘I’m innocent’ charade
Eyes that speak
In shrouded
Synonyms
Eyes that deny
expression

Lips linger
Languishing in laments
Of fuck me now
And we lie side by side
In our kingsize bed
And seductive sonnets
resound
At the perfection of
Your sublime form
And the artistic curve
Of your nubile breast
And whole arias
Are played on the flesh
Of your orchestra bones
I feel like a have a
Back stage pass
To God’s Creation

‘Don’t be a stranger’
Kindergarden Jesus says
Picks a child’s coat up
From off the
Classroom floor
And I see my life
Trodden beneath your
‘can’t fuck you’ feet
And you hold out
your arms as if to meet
Me at the other side
Of the rainbow
But I am not fucking
Dorothy
And we are not in
Fucking Kansas
anymore

Your warm embrace
Is a Judas’ kiss
And I do not confess
Where I am not
The only one
to have sinned

I toss
My counterfeit coins
And wait for the taste
Of my bitter
Betrayal.

©2020 Sarah Drury

Iceland

I wrote this poem as a spoken word piece, in response to this coronavirus pandemic, through the eyes of an elderly person who has lived through world war two.

Five hundred quid
Worked all my life for five hundred quid
Ooo, these Tena ladies are on offer
Worked my hands to the bone and my back to the knackers yard, I did
Funny times we live in, funny times
Corona-whatsit rampant, country in lockdown
Just like the war
Our big grown prime minister falling to the floor
Sick people in and out the revolving doors
Crying and dying on hospital floors
People telling me to stay indoors
Only so much of Piers Morgan I can take
And I’m bleeding sick of doing chores
Ooo look, choccy digestives, two for one fifty
Just like the war
But not living on a lump of cheese, a tin of spam and a packet of dried egg
Bring back rationing, it should be the law
All these feckin crazy people
Strippin shelves bare
Hoarding the toilet roll like they don’t care
About how others fare
Oh, I’ll have some of those
Rice pudding, fifty pence a tin
Its strange times, its mad times we’re in
Can’t even go down the bingo
Can’t remember the last time I had a win
Hair like a Brillo pad, legs like scourers
Can’t remember the last time I plucked the hairs on my chin
It does this to you
All this social isolation
Wrapping clingfilm around a rebellious nation
And the government have this mental expectation
That we will be sheep
Clothed in the wool of allegation
Don’t go out
Wash your hands
Keep two metres between you
Do as we say, or we’ll impose a curfew
It’s just like the war
Except you don’t have to don your guns
And kill a visible enemy
We’re fighting something global we can’t even see
All we have to do is stay inside and watch the death tolls on TV
And I pray every day that one of those intensive care beds won’t be me.
Ooo loo roll
I’ll need that
Back in the war I’d wipe my bum with newspaper
The stories of the day plastered over my derriere
My neighbour popping by to see if I had some spare
And the air raid sirens would scream
And we’d be woken from our dreams
Of victory
Playing hide and seek with the bombs that rained down
Dot to dot on the roofs of the houses of our little town
Taking refuge in the shelters
Taking refuge in the neighbours
Taking refuge in the strangers
And though we were fighting for freedom
We were still free
Oh, tinned fruit cocktail
Will do for my trifle
Put it in my cupboard full
Of empty shelves
In my kitchen of a lonely life.
Better go home now
Better go home.

©2020 Sarah Drury

Hope

Can’t sleep, so got to work on a mental health poem for a video we are making in conjunction with the guys from cafe indie. I was asked to perform one with a message of hope but didn’t have one, lol, so have written this…

*WARNING – A FEW SWEAR WORDS

Hope

When days go on for months
And minutes go on for hours
And I can barely lift my head from the pillow
And life seems like a superhero
Died without her superpowers
And life is bloody tough
And living is bloody rough
And I drag my arse into Primark leggings
And forget to brush my hair
And I don’t fucking care
That I look like shit
Twenty days
Of being in a black, depressed haze
This is not some emo phase
That I will outgrow
I haven’t won some temporary holiday
In a luxury psychiatric facility
I have just lost my ability
To see rainbows and sunshine
Just lost my ability
To see in technicolour
I know

When days go on for months
And minutes go on for hours
And I can hardly stagger through the graveyard that is life
And I can’t bear the sight or the scent of the flowers
On the graves
Little gestures of love
And I raise my arms to the skies above
And scream
I scream
For this blanket of darkness to fuck right away
For this cloud of doom and gloom
On other messed up minds to play
And I can’t find words to say
I’ve had enough
But there is a way out of this
And I know that life does not seem like bliss
I know living each moment is hardly a piece of piss
But you need to reach out
To tell the world you need a helping hand
For there are those who have heads buried in the sand
But depression is not a plague
And talking about your mental hurdles
Means not that you are weak, but you are fucking brave!
Mental health is fragile
Sanity is a fine lined thing
I don’t care if you scream your pain
As long as your head starts to clear
Then your mind can start to sing
Songs of hope
So, sit beside me
Share my pain
Show me your compassion
Show me that you’re here for me
That you’ll sit with me in the purple rain
And maybe I will smile a little
Maybe I will lose my hues of blue
Maybe tears will lift
And during my nights, my terrors
Will be chased away by peaceful dreams anew
Then I can live again
In happiness
Those minutes that go on for hours
Those hours that go on for days
And the months and the years
Will shine as brightly as the sun’s dazzling rays
And I will shine again
I will shine again

©2020 Sarah Drury