Archive for May, 2018

Seven definitions of Israel

Posted in Uncategorized on May 30, 2018 by antonyowen
greyscale photo of masks on a stick

Photo by Ghost Presenter on Pexels.com

If you were a masked man in my garden

The police would not recognise you as its owner

They would warn you to leave and you would laugh in their face.

 

If you removed your mask and my family by force from my home

my neighbours would not watch and then walk away,

police would cordon me off from my own path.

 

If I rebelled and threw a stone at your face for stealing my land

Would you kill my wife and children for your anger?

Imagine a police station moving to my sacred bed.

 

Picture an old man with numbers on his arm shuddering by burst gas pipes

I think he would see the gassing of my child and help me

I think we could be friends, press each other’s wounds.

 

Picture a sea of children, eyes pitted like Palestinian olives

Picture them being dragged by the legs to fists

Six numbers on arms add to nothing learnt.

 

If I left my house, where would I go and who would take me?

My children are walking into the sea wanting to die

This defines being young and Palestinian.

 

 

 

The shooting of a white woman in Al-Ghoyari Town

Posted in Uncategorized on May 24, 2018 by antonyowen
photo of guy fawkes mask with red flower on top on hand

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

There was no white woman in Al-Ghoyari town

and no town exists in the world called Al-Ghoyari town

but if the title suggests and both exist but the woman was black

would you accept my invitation to stanza two and read what happens to her?

 

There was no black woman in Al-Ghoyari town

and yet towns like that exist in places like Yemen, Gaza,

a colourless woman uncovers her face when her voice is naked

it is the body of God opposing man, it is the oil that matters, sweat, blood, tears.

 

I have a confession to make to the Gods and the grape givers on blasphemous walls,

there is a child with an earthquake in his body from a bomb you sold,

there is a devil in a Bentley and he will die with fish eggs on his lips

earlier that day his hand unmade twenty-eight sons, daughters.

 

There was no white woman in Al-Ghoyari town

and for those who accepted my invitation I thank you

I was taught to read epitaphs from the beginning to the end

I chose to learn that when breath leaves the body we are not here

The deaths of Anne Boleyn

Posted in Uncategorized on May 20, 2018 by antonyowen
black chess chess pieces close up

Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com

After Ruth Stacey

I heard your bones break from the fire

your red carpet sprayed like magma

the axe wept Tudor-red for you

Oh Ann was it heavy as him

Did it burn like royal cum

Was a rose in bloom?

For France then

A slayed swan

Sails in guts

For love

For him

A lass

Alas

When a head is severed the eyes blink

Did you admire the basket weavers work?

Did you see your life was like blood and willow?

Carefully structured to hold something beyond your weight

Did he kiss a cross after straddling you like a wet devil in fire?

I read somewhere they lit Frankincense when suturing his wounds

For you a pen carved from swan beak so you can kiss a poem to sweet sister

She looked away when your breast thumped stone and slumped to ale fuelled merriment.

 

I heard you prayed with your eyes open

Except when he was inside you

Groaning ghost son names

He burned god for you

Shunned hag queens

Fattened the pigs

Oiled apples

It’s core

You.

 

4 new poems at Warscapes Magazine

Posted in Uncategorized on May 17, 2018 by antonyowen

http://www.warscapes.com/poetry/very-british-remembrance-ceremony-and-other-poems

 

The teargassing of an infant

Posted in Uncategorized on May 15, 2018 by antonyowen

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Born in your mother-cloud you emerged pure as water

That blue sky on you, that blue dye on you

I say your name aloud, earth daughter,

Earth daughter, you are not mine

Blood and bread to wine

Mirth and slaughter

Earth and daughter.

 

When you teargas a baby the very wind itself is affronted

That strangers hand on you, that disputed land on you

I say your name aloud, earth daughter, earth daughter

Israeli and Saud in human shroud we are all water,

Blood and bread to wine over spilling

Mud and lead to cypress vine

I know of her killing.

 

When you teargas a baby, land can no longer be disputed,

A star is blunted as fresh soil is uprooted

Bury her without a shot being fired

Hold the Mother she is tired

Find the Father he is lost

Earth and daughter

Mirth and slaughter

Land and cost.

The Palestinian Song Contest

Posted in Uncategorized on May 13, 2018 by antonyowen

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In land we were dragged as children from

Our homes aglow like yellow stars

This is not Orion but Palestine.

 

My great grandmother passed down a song,

She passed it down like bread in lace

Our hearts ripped with that bread.

 

Welcome to the Palestinian song contest

My Mother sings to my silent Father,

Equality and borders are wrinkles.

 

Welcome to the Palestinian song contest,

Israel wins a song for all women if only

They saw as human first then woman.

 

We light a fire where the grass yields to wind,

It is a harsh wind, unrelenting and constant

We have never fell over from it and sing.

Belfast on Weather Reports, by Antony Owen

Posted in Uncategorized on May 10, 2018 by antonyowen

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

I was eight years old when I first truly saw Ireland
Michael Fish stuck sunshine over Belfast and it fell off
They got the weather wrong that week it rained there.

I was eight years old when I first truly saw England,
Humans smeared a dirty protest over prison walls
Rib-cages and iron bars served the same purpose.

I was eight years old when I first felt England invade me,
Bobby Sands bled from a mural on a once ordinary house,
Men who never went to Ireland clinked tankards in glee.

I was twenty-one years old when I first felt Ireland,
A horse with a severed rope chewed roses on Dundrum road
Nobody was bothered, it was bothering nobody.

I was twenty-one when I first felt England in Dublin
A stag night from London turned Garda blue and ugly
It was the end of the troubles yet those lads invaded…

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Psalm 17

Posted in Uncategorized on May 6, 2018 by antonyowen

pexels-photo-262488.jpeg

 

Using numbers from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, we found that from 2001 to 2013, 406,496 people died by firearms on U.S. soil.

CNN

Less than 420,000 Americans were killed in the whole of WW2

Author

1

Birth is violent

we arrive bloody

primal and pure.

Mothership

Sever rope

Mayday

Help

Lost

2

Found

Jesus

Hanging

In America

Motherland

Sever children

Filicide and milk

They depart bloody

American death is violent

3

Lost

America.

Motherships

Sinking slowly

The seventeen atolls

Once upon a time in America

Pilgrims arrived in wooden cribs

Rising slowly they made children in salem

17

Pray

Shoot sky

Seventeen times

God will not return fire

the mothership burns in the black sea

seventeen gun salutes blow gods head off.