Poets’ page

Every so often we carry a number of poems on political matters. Here is a current selection.



By Thom Cross


We got the blues!

Blue on blue

black n blue


Eton-boyz blues

We all lose.


Bad news

for folk like me and you

trying to get through

the lies and the hate

from the blue Tory state

and their chums in the press

spewing a shitty news-mess

paid for and sold

by corrupt-Tory gold.


By the inches watch them buy

Lie after lie;

Read the Tory-life of lies

In a state where all truth dies

‘Create hate mate!’

Say the pompous and the great

Create red n blue frustration

Demonize immigration

If you don’t look like me

There’s leaky boats on the sea

Vote Brexit & be proud

Watch the dip in the pound

Join the Eton chorus

Of Bullington Boris

Follow me! Follow me!

Brexit is for us and ME!

T’hell with the economy

Fk- the pols and the frogs

The jocks and the Calais nogs

In Engerland’s blue and unpleasant land!

Democracy is a mirage!

With Boris, Gove n Farage!

Don’t dance to that band

Let’s have jazz in our land

The drum beat o fraternity

Horns give us dignity

Wi the bass-strum o solidarity

An the pipes o sovereignty

Give us stramach ‘n rock n roll

With an honest Celtic soul

Give us Euro-romance

We’ll hooch n we’ll dance

Across Europe n France

A great Ceilidh of joy

So dance Greek kore n boy

With garcon n lassie

With zolkie and brahzie

Dance across the Rhone n Rhine

In soul n prance n reel-time

and through our heather

Oh how we’ll dance!

We will dance; dance the gither!



Oh what a nonsense that we cannie dance

Ideas leap & whirl in this wee country

In reels of thought and dreams

And in the progress of the steps it seems

That in our dance we hope, for in that glance

We choreograph a future.

Justice is our destiny: for this we dance. 


By James Aitchison


Memories spontaneously repeat themselves

I often think of Wallace Street.


I never knew the landlord who got the rent

For our two rooms in his slum tenement.

‘Landlord’, ‘slum tenement’ – I didn’t know

What these words meant seventy years ago.


We moved to a new house when I was eight

But Wallace Street is still an essential state

Of mind and spirit. The enduring creed

Of my proletarian heritage

Has given me the lasting title-deed

To slum-land innocence in my old age.


What I like about Brexit


By Peter Lomas


What I like about Brexit is its cheery, decisive, it’s-a-new-day sound.

Like the ring of a steely old alarm-clock (made in Britain, of course).



Or like breakfast.

Look at the clever toast, jumping up in the toaster all by itself.

Get your sovereignty back!

Pour some milk on your Breksits!


What I like about Brexit is its Br-r-itishness.

We’re not Europeans!

Or Americans either (they’re all Europeans anyway, more Poles in Chicago, etc.).

We’re eXceptional!

We’ve got the X-factor, the je-ne-sais-quoi (oops).

Let them speak English!


Bring back the imperial measures, the funky pounds, shillings and pence!

We’re different – not logical, like the Krauts, or snooty, like the French, or wimpish, like the Eyeties, or show-offs, like the Spics.

Let them eat paella!


What I like about Brexit is its rough, gritty, liberating feel.

Like thumbing a flame from your Zippo in front of all those gasbags in Brussels.

Don’t you just love being in control? Boom!


If you can’t fix it, Brex it.

Sometimes you’ve got to hex it.

George Eliot said humankind can’t bear too much reality.

And he was right.

I’m going to pray to Saint Theresa.