Militant Thistles

polemical poetry to prickle the politics of "permanent austerity"

atos Poor Doors Sheriff Stars spikes

thistles stretch their prickly arms afar

Black Triangle bedroom tax Disrupt and Upset

Matthew Duggan

Neighbourhood!

 

 

The neighbourhood where gentrification bulldozed social quarantines,

Volkswagens on location

in the offices of heated spoon and morphine.

 

Replacing plastic chairs with comfy sofas

worn leather veins and a takeaway flat white hazelnut,

crowds of Lorazepam shufflers chain smoking in man-made Nissen huts.

 

Mojito coloured fake lawn        cubes with black flat-screens,

Gates that slide open by patterns securing their unimaginative dreams,

behind remote controlled solar curtains.

 

Now the neighbourhood has upsized its price

Independent shops       organic food            eco-wines

the local serves Hungarian beer and Indonesian spice

where Neo-Platonists discuss Italian house design.

 

The richer men are culturally fracking the poorer neighbourhood,

out sourcing and out moulding our neighbourhood

which we once all thought was pretty damn good.

Matthew Duggan was born in Bristol in 1971. He was winner of the erbacce prize for poetry 2015. Poems have appeared in The Seventh Quarry, Lunar Poetry Magazine, A New Ulster, Paper and Ink Zine, Harbinger Asylum, New Boots and Pantisocracies, Section 3, Roundyhouse, The Dawntreader. New prize winning collection Dystopia 38.10 (erbacce press) due 2016.

OXI

 

I stand with my Greek brothers and sisters

capitalism that decaying beast – the eye of the cyclops,

one sighted view into greed - our embryo of democracy.

That once idolised structure of order

now filtering worldwide - into the pockets of the ruling few.

I rage with my Greek brothers and sisters

blinding the eye of this cyclops – bleeding us of funding

stripping assets - defrauding us our liberty,

our pursuit and progress. Stand tall my brother and sister

austerity has no answer as our anger ripples across this world.

When we rise and hold our metaphysical swords

gutting that blinded beast,

I stand tall with you my Greek brothers and sisters.

 

 

 

 

Red Rose

 

 

Blood is returning to a stem in fading red

petals of a rose cleansed- a dying head,

you will see it appearing in a shade of velvety blood

carefully look inside the bud - see that smear of putrid blue,

delicately dripping – fearful and leaving this rising earth.

Insurgency of this returning rose a glorious rebirth –

What nature truly imposes is that the rose will once again be RED!