Fuck Your Feelings by Esi Yankey



Miss Yankey is a London based British/Ghanaian poet with a healthy addiction to verse. She runs Poetry Prescribed, who provide therapeutic workshops promoting poetry as a healing tool; and an effective way to manage mental health and wellbeing; In addition to this Miss Yankey is a co-host and resident poet at The Chocolate Poetry Club. To find out more please follow her on social media or email info@missyankey.com


No More by Stefan Gambrell


So here we are, it’s time for the Neanderthal Bard

But I’m marred by a world scarred by hard nosed business

As wealth grows to a limitless need an uncontrollable greed

But I won’t concede as trees bleed from green to brown

Soon no longer around, just dead ground.

All fracked and fucked up and then sucked up by

Capitalist misfits from a higher class, with their heads

Up their arse, in need of a stark remark but I’m not a

Harmless spark, I’m fully charged fire starter and I’m

In the afterglow so know this.

If I’m coming for you then I’m coming for the truth

And you can’t reroute me and put me off track and

Distract me I know exactly what strategy I’m using

So in a less confusing way so I can say for sure with

Pure intention that prevention is the key to living


We need to stop. We need to stop unconditionally

Listening, it’s time to be loud we are allowed to be

Proud. So be proud of being human and securing a

Future that feels much looser and where laughter is

Free and a hard grafter can see a happy ever after.

Where help and care are driven and where giving isn’t

Seen as giving in.

I’m not inspiring a class war I’m inciting no war at all,

Now you can call me mad, but who is it that profits

From war torn lands. I’m not a prophet or a holy man

But even I can understand that when a man kills a man

For this green and pleasant land then the blood is on

Hands of the Few.  The few that choose to loose the

Lives they use and abuse the patriotism of a nation.

Still making mistakes as hearts break every day.

From the cold old folks to the broken veterans and war

Widows cast to the shadows of this world,  little orphaned

Boys and girls, torn from mums and dads when we bombed

Sadam in Iraq and then bombed Bagdad and as the middle

East was overcome by grief world leaders would meet

And decide the price or cost of each life lost.

So now I’m angrily demanding these leaders or yesteryear and the

The hear and now come on up and take a bow then take

A vow of truth and allow me to prove that proof of life

Has no price but huge worth here on Earth than in the

World of hurt we are on course for.

This planet is sore it’s been ravaged and torn in a war for

Oil and dominance but a predominant status isn’t what

Makes us who we are.

So you can’t phase us or make us fall apart, take a

Chance on your heart.  It’s usually right you know if you

Choose to fight all foes with reason and accountability

But words of freedom without stability falls on the

Clothe ears of peerage peers and their expense

Accounts where no amount is enough to be pumped


But that was before but no more, no more because we’ve

Got our abacus’s out and calculators ready we are incredibly

Telling the many, everything to everyone the time has

Come to be the ones that cages things, exchanging

Haters for lovers and enemy’s for brothers.

But we have got to stop connecting the Dots and protect

What’s plane to see.  It’s not as easy as 1 . 2 . 3 all their

Dots from the start to the end and in between.


Draw your own future and get used ta knowing your

Neighbours by doing them favours for no reward but that

Warm feeling you get from believing in yourself again

Try to break away from negative messages oppressing

The sensitive of nature in favour of the beast. So

Reach.  Reach for the sky. Why? Coz it’s ours and

With this positive charge we have come so far.

So now it’s time to collect the correct taxes from

The cunts and the wankers off sure the ones above the

Law where distance is an instant barrier between the laws

Of this land and the  common man.

So let’s make this stand together. Become one with reality

Stop turning our backs on depravity,  feel the gravity,

Sense the reality and actually care. Let’s try to comfort

The scared. Let’s in trench respect and honour as a matter

Of course but our law courts enforce unjust deeds so we

Are all at sea. Will the BBC ever cover our screams and

Believe me this world is screaming, our world has done s

Bleeding for the greedy we need to be stampeding for the

Needy to be strong. Teach the weak they belong on and

Even plane and say.  No more.  No more. No more

Of the over privileged picking and pillaging poor peoples

Pockets for more rockets and drones. We are alone no more

We don’t want more war. We want to talk before we

Fight . We might wanna try something nice instead

Of a warhead led advance . Give love a chance for fuck

Sake there is so much heart ache and pain today but

Believe me please there is so much more to see than war

Born poverty.  And I wanna be part of it but not the half

Hearted part coz I’m a glass and a half. Lower class

From the start, ready to impart all I know. And I will go

Toe to toe, and stand side by side or back to back as I

Mount an attack from my side if the track. So it’s time

To fight then win then cheer.

Here hold my beer.

No Apologies by Des Mannay

No apologies!

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Protective Edge (2014)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Pillar of Defense (2012)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Returning Echo (2012)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Gaza Strip air raids (2011)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Gaza flotilla raid (2010)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

al-Fakhura School (2009)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Ibrahim al-Maqadna Mosque strike (2009)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Khoza’a (2009)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Hot Winter (2008)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Cast Lead (2008)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Beit Hanoun incident (2008)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

blockade of the Gaza Strip (since 2007)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Autumn Clouds (2006)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

shelling of Beit Hanoun (2006)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Gaza beach explosion (2006)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Summer Rains (2006)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Days of Penitence (2004)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Forward Shield (2004)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Rainbow (2004)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Battle of Jenin (2002)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Defensive Shield (2002)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Muhammad al-Durrah incident (2000)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Grapes of Wrath (1996)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Sabra and Shatila (1982)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Peace for Galilee (1982)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Beirut (1981)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Litani (1978)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Spring of Youth (1973)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Libyan Arab Airlines Flight 114 (1973)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Beirut airport (1968)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Battle of Karameh (1968)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Jerusalem (1967)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

The Six-Day War (1967)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Kafr Qasim massacre (1956)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Suez Crisis (1956)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Qalqilya police station (1956)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Gaza City (1956)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Olive Leaves (1955)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Volcano (1955)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Kuntilla (1955)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Khan Yunis (1955)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Black Arrow (1955)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

The Lavon Affair (1954)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Eye for an Eye (1954)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Lion (1954)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Viper on the Track (1953)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Operation Vengeance and Reprisal (1953)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Qibya massacre (1953)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Tantura (1948)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Ramla and Lydd (1948)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Deir Yassin (1948)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Plan Dalet

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

Khisas (1947)

Israel is a terrorist state

No apologies!

The Nakba

Israel is a terrorist state

Escaping Cults by Mark Potts

Poetry in motion;

…………………Think I’m joking!

Not brainwashed;

…………………Don’t live in a cult.

No knocking on doors;

…………………Doing their chores.

Not preaching the word.

…………………Can’t hand out their trash;

Its blaspheming hashtag;

…………………Their only interest is your cash;

No money left,

…….You can sign a waiver.

………………An order by the slaver,

……………………………………..Of the cult;

To work every day,

………Till your last breath,

…………………………..Is taken away;

……………….Or paradise you’ll not get.

This is heaven;

……..I’ve run away.

The gist of it all is!

…….Got to catch up,

…………….With so much I’ve missed.

A liberty took, with my life!

…………….I stand alone, strong!

……………………………..Can’t choose a wife.

Mind, eye, sees;

………..Where oblasts point to.

…………………………….. Zones of power;

Signs, reflecting back;

……………….Speed of sound.




Those that see know;

……………Darkness to light,

……………………To and fro.

…………………………Bright, light show.

Never forgotten.

…………Purest gold try!

………………Nature’s nurture.

…………………..Nan’s butterfly.

human it is by Reuben Woolley


are most human
………in quiet
where hurt
……………………….tumbling through

& time doesn’t move

we are human
goes labyrinth

……..we are human
on these sands


……………………..in tears
we are human.it’s
the water we share


You can get the book through this link. Remember that all the profits go to the refugees through the organisation, CalAid. https://hesterglockpress.wordpress.com/reuben-woolley-skins/

& cut heads will speak


we survive
in long
is no air here
no fresh
way of saying

………….they made a god
in someone’s image.they
move the strings

………….a rope
too tight.a noose

to silence

……………….these pages
close.a cut
head does not speak

they think.listen
……………….hear the verses
sing triumphant


Red Christmas by Jodie Rose McLoughlin

It’s no fun being a socialist at Christmas
When it’s all about the spend spend spend
Drowning in unnecessary commercialistic greed
The capitalist nightmare gravy train
never stops or comes to an end.

Hey you with kids, I get it!
You want them to have the best, be happy, spoiled, have what you didn’t have,
but what about the rest?

The queues at the Foodbank get longer.
You long to wake up from the dystopian dream.
In a nation that’s become so cold and right-wing,
that opposition to war is called communism and extreme!

War creates more war.
Terror creates more terror and death.
Whilst people you love bury their heads in the sand
Like ostriches, safely tucked away, ignorant, blind and deaf.

No fun being a socialist at Yuletide.
Nowhere to hide from adverts, jingles and false cheer.
When in reality things are far from OK,
as leaders bomb us forward into another cutthroat year.

I’d rather spend my Christmas
with the homeless and the needy
Than endure forced conversation and overindulge:
so wasteful and so greedy.

As the tryptophan in the turkey sends me to sleep
I can doze off in bliss and pretend to be a sheep.
Jumping over fences to keep everybody happy,
suppress the urge to be myself,
say something inappropriate, dark and deep.

Grit your teeth at racist, nationalistic comments.
As Grandma makes everyone watch the Queen’s speech,
God save those subjected to austerity,
as Aunty gives you a disdainful look
as she thinks you’re a scrounger and a leech.

As they suckle at the media’s rotten teat.
A drooping, toxic, saggy treat.
You’ve learned to keep quiet in your friends smart houses,
where no one wants a downer as they choke down their manufactured meat.

It sucks having a conscious at Christmas
as you succumb to the awkward, drunken kiss.
When you’re given things you don’t need and have to be grateful.
Surely ’tis more to the season than this?

Charitable giving which is sadly necessary,
this year many thousands won’t have food in their bellies.

it’s tricky to cook a Christmas dinner in a hostel or B&B,
but so what?
I’m ok,
now pass me the remote for the telly.

We can’t change the world
Won’t dance the capitalist dance,
but can’t we just for once try a ‘radical’ solution,
and maybe just give peace a chance?

Money is the rotten root,
cause of the workings of this evil world,
where is God to fight the Devils when you need him?
Says this ‘terrorist sympathiser’ of a girl.

Who values innocent life.
Will not live by the self-serving knife
Piling my plate higher than I need it with material goods,
being selfishly in denial when poverty is rife.

It’s not easy being a ‘radical’ during Noel.
If my glances matched my thoughts then they’d ice over hell!
Oh joy to the world, the sprouts are in the oven,
stinking out the place,
because there’s nothing like a strong hypocrisy smell.

Wafting up my nostrils and making me gag.
I’m not like them, but I can pretend.
Be polite, smile, keep it light
and try not to offend.
It’s really shit being a socialist at Christmas,
under attack and struggling to defend.

People’s chosen leader mocked,
feeling fat and ugly in this frock.
Watching the clock with my pendulum eyes,
if only the drone ants would scurry back under their rock.

Never part of the flock.
Proud to stand apart,
with my back to the maddening crowd.
No amount of English scorn or expectation
will keep my head ‘respectfully’,  subserviently bowed!

It’s lonely being a socialist at Christmas.
Always the outsider, apart.
But I must live as I believe, making these choices not with my selfish head
but with my giving heart.

My beliefs allow me to sleep well at night.
To you I’m sure they’re pie in the sky,
but I’d rather be a leftie, liberal, soft-hearted, sometimes unrealistic,
than glorify,
the innocent who die.

put that gift set back on the shelf.
Money cannot buy you true happiness or health.
Rich in love, I pay the price,
for speaking my mind and being myself.

A price worth paying for speaking the truth.
I trim the fat off my friends list this December night.
I believe in miracles and that people’s views can change.

The socialist at Christmas may be excluded from the party,
but at least they know they’re morally right.

Systematic Slavery by Deke Dobson

Systems work,
That’s why they are implemented,
To blanket cover society,
And keep them apprehend,

And bogged down in the trenches,
The struggles relentless,
No mans land is represented,
By those sitting on the fences,

Who witness the horror,
But don’t try to end it,
Some are so brain washed,
They are willing to die to defend it,

Take a life and end it,
Because it doesn’t fit in with their own fairy tale ending,
Brainwashed by the establishment,
Is how rogue psycho’s are invented,

As extremist radicalise,
Governments spin their own lies,
Manipulating the masses,
Causing hatred to rise,

Side effects of living in a system,
Every person for themselves,
People crying out for help,
Buts there’s no one to listen,

No helping hand,
No guidance or wisdom,
Left out in the cold,
Watching and wishing,

The systems designed,
To milk you like cattle,
Cash cows,
Fed to feed the system,,

We live in a civilised society,
Yet we have vulnerable members,
Suffering silently,
Because the systems based on piracy,

We treat prisoners better,
Than we treat the elderly,
The older generations disregarded,
As we evolve technologically,

All that wisdom,
Of years past forgotten,
Simply because someone,
Doesn’t understand the meaning of a .com,

And mental health has never been more rife,
Within our communities,
But instead help and support,
We get labelled as obsolete,

Adhd or some other made up disease,
Prescription drugs and therapy,
Mind the door on your way out,
as you slip further into insanity,

While the peasants,
Run around frantically,
Trying to earn a crust,
For their family,

The working man’s tale
Is one of tragedy,
Happy go lucky,
Always tries his best,

But the systems designed,
To keep the water levels up to your chest,
Working families use food banks,
To keep hunger in check,

And minimum wage,
Tightens nooses round the necks,
Of those forced into government debts,
By the deficit of death,

Homeless are treated with no respect,
Instead of food and warmth,
They are given,
Spikes for beds,

Weighed and measured,
And sentenced to death,
Souls lost,
To life’s zest,

See systems work,
That’s why they’re implemented,
To blanket cover society,
And keep it apprehended,

The world over,
Systems are implemented,
To keep us bogged down,
In the trenches,

No matter the language,
The effects are just the same,
Its all designed,
To haemorrhage our life force away,

The systems always at fault,
But never carries blame,
This is why for centuries,
those in power the world over have suppressed change.


Deke Dobson, founder of the Padded Cell Poetry Movement, author and slam poet, soldier of light, harbinger of hope, and workshop facilitator, who speaks from the heart, with his raw, gritty, honest observational poetry, designed to break down social barriers, question popular opinion and challenge judgemental mentalities, delivered with the force of a proverbial sledgehammer, Deke channels negative energies into verse to make a positive difference.

Strength in Numbers by Deke Dobson

We are all in this together

Solidarity is key,

We must make a stand

If we wanna triumph over our endeavours


Authority’s plucking our tails

Feather by feather,

And it’s hard not to catch pneumonia…

When you’re not adequately dressed,

For the great British weather


Broken Britain

Is full of broken umbrellas,

a country drowning

Except for the corporate fellas


Shares float,

Inflation acts as the propeller,

The powers that be

Constantly steering us into stormy weathers,


This ships sinking

Things ain’t getting better,

Bailout funds,

Fund backhand bungs,


Leaving the tax payer stung

Hung out and wrung

While the fiddlers

Take the money and run,


Stashing loot,

Like a pirate,


Under the sun,


While those at home,

Fight amongst themselves,

For crumbs,

Malnourished and shunned,


Chastised and penalised,

For the state of the country

But it’s the state,

That actually ruined the country


Too many lies

From slippery guys,

How long will we continue

To let them pull the wool over our eyes,


Time to wake up and realise,

MPs are there to serve us,

Elected by the people

For the people,

Means they work for the people,

Not the other way round,


But people in power

Tend to bend it to their own needs,

That’s why the public have suffered

Now for centuries,


Britain ain’t broken

Its depressed

Downtrodden and suppressed,


Noosed necks,

Wish for death,

Rather than pay the governments debts,


The reapers happy to collect,

Business ain’t never been so good,

Since the black plague took effect,


Even bankers bounce of pavements like unsigned cheque’s.

Murder rate climbing,



Poverty rising,

In our civilised society,

Families residing,

To live beyond their needs,


And it’s not a act of greed,

It’s simply

The cost of living comfortably

Is far beyond reach,


An easy life,


When living under the rule,

Of these oxygen thieves,


Staying positive,

Is a grand ole feat,

When your troubles,

Keep you from sleep,


Wishing this mountain,

Wasn’t so steep,

Longing for one nights peace,

Praying the wolves,

Keep from the sheep.

acronymity of lonesomeness by Jennifer Louise Croft

what would happen if you was the last one on earth? would you turn out the light, say good night, or clamour on that this ain’t right. me, with no cares, i’d be the girl of my dreams, even though no one could help me change. i’d manage, a skirt, a drink, every other day i’d allow in the hurt, but what animosity would you blurt?

first, second, now last. no past, that dont make you cry to remember. would you surrender or realise, at last you can be a winner, no one can call you a sinner. my friend, you’re free at last. how would you have a blast without the monotony of civilisation holding you back?

i know this is a distant future but there is no one who can say what you lack. no one can fratch against the decisions you decide to make. would you become bored, playing chess against yourself, till your demons of mental health win or would you say fuck this. throw the bad tidings in the bin and travel a world that was always unknown, unable to be travelled but now that plight has been unravelled.

will you plow your own field of dreams. i dont know, it seems to me, we’d be lost with the acronymity of lonesomeness. no threats to your own survival, no means for a cure. this lure that will never catch the fish you want. will you wither and die or survive, and let old age reminisce?

its an untold arbitrary moment but one day some one might have to suffer it and i just hope they don’t be a git and give up. i’d slap the shit if i was there, but i’m just being a square. i’d be the future’s past, i just hope my ideologies last at that and survival will re-compensate for the sedate moment of mourning that occurs on a daily basis across our present.

worry isn’t a curse but its not a blessing. there’s no messing with the times of our lives but we could alter for the better and this one soul survivor vision, would never occur, but it will. the one pushing the button, they wouldn’t imagine the pain it will surely bring. no birds left to sing, no roads left to travel. no soul to battle to the edge of your wits, no pricks, that fuck random holes, all goals incomplete.

its a dramatic image of fields and trees burning, fowls on fire as they accidentally torch the sky, why? cause this life is so fucked up. how can humanity end at the push of a button. i worry but i’m a none, what about you, do you have a fucking clue?

fuck the oppression of self-delusion, is there an unselfish conclusion that won’t leave this planet devoid of life or will our entrenched, incensed strife just allow us to die and scream what happened world, why am i the only one left? why was life stolen, who allowed this theft?

who destroyed this gift? i just wish this won’t come true but sadly with all this i’m left turning a revolting shade of blue. humanity’s curse is its life, its loving wife, its juvenile sidekick. quick don’t blink. i think it’s sorted or was that push of the button aborted?

retarded, that’s what we are, unanimous, am i! this ain’t the path we were chosen for. this i dramatically implore but as we pass through this trifled landscape, i realise i can’t ask for much more, then you take a step at a time, and don’t plant the landmine that kills yourself! because if you was the only one not left, who could we accuse of life’s abysmal theft?

Traitor’s Badge by Jodie Rose McLoughlin

When did the word pacifist become a synonym for traitor?
When did choice become enforced?
When did peace become a dirty word?
Oh get off your high and mighty horse!

Tell me why I’m disrespectful
for not glorifying war?
Worshipping militarily ideals such as service without question?
Refusing to kowtow to principles I abhor?

You say they fought for our freedom
and that’s no doubt what the soldiers thought.
In reality they fought for power, money, drugs and control,
over lands which were not ours to conquer,
for nothing is sacred when allies can be bought.

Those that have a choice,
do they do it for a sovereign, government or Country,
to defend and to protect?
What about the Tommy in the trenches in 1914,
without a choice,
nowhere to run, no escape and given no final respect?

I respect deserters and objectors more than any mindless sacrifice.
Unquestioning, propaganda swallowing,
hollowly following waste of young life.

Widows and mothers solemnly grieved
but at least the objectors stood for what they believed.
Every soul has the right to decide
whether to take up arms,
the elite have their fate and our histories tapestry pre-weaved

But we don’t teach kids about freedom do we?
Only reverence and adherence.
Keep them steeped in glorious conformity
without room for debate or any liberal interference.

The Iraq and Afghan wars were illegal.
The Falklands was about one evil women’s odious ego.
No wars have been necessary since World War Two.
Wherever the US president goes that’s where as a nation we go.

We do as we’re told and we think what’s  acceptable,
follow the majority consensus or prepare to be shot down,
be called a traitor, scum and disloyal,
for daring to be disparaging
about the leaders and the crown.

You will not abuse me until I comply
for surely veterans fought for our right to choose,
whether to wear a symbol or not?
In the game of war all of us lose.

Will not be shamed or blamed or pressured
into buying into something that goes against my beliefs.
For Britain is not great now when lead by right wing quasi-fascists,
who cause ordinary people nothing but poverty, suffering and grief.

Modem versions of imperialism and unnecessary bloodshed
show little respect for those long dead.
Those who fought out of necessity or because they had no choice,
knew no better, were brainwashed,
had no individual voice.

It’s those men I honour
(not modern horrors)
so I wear a white flower on my chest,
to symbolise peace and hope for a better world,
where war is obsolete and humanity is at its best.

You call me naive,
say I need to grow up
just because I don’t condone
those who blow other people up.

It’s the real evil that we should be fighting.
Not innocent people in foreign lands,
there’s no glory in war, absolutely none!
How are we all to salute and pray anyway
when we’ve blown off each other’s hands?

Wear whatever you want as that is your choice.
We won’t be silenced into submission or hide,
away in the darkness,
forever the minority,
I’ll wear my traitor’s badge with pride.

With your knee-jerk reactions you go ballistic,
because I’m not like you, flag waving, nationalistic.
“Educate yourself on our history” you say,
I have dear commenter and what I see, is a Country of past invaders, immoral and sadistic.

No glory in bombs and guns or villagers dead.
So sentence me to treason and chop off my head!
All you would see is more blood and pain,
because there is no glory

in red

Villain by Spoken Word

I am willin’ but their nonchalance is chillin’
Are you a victim of social disorder and it’s floored ya?
I want to ask them
Why do we continue to create all these ghettos and borders?
I don’t hate you
You are shady, you did play me
now you soiled my community, my family name
But beef is not how I
want to define my game.
I don’t mean to curse on my verse
Just looking for a more loving universe
I want freedom to run free,
Like water gently running through my toes
Like a blackbird in the sky,
I know we are different but all these labels are making us die
All the deceased, too many lives that have been prematurely fleeced.
Those left behind to afraid to protest or make a sound
Less Mac Daddy and more a golfer without a caddy.
Listen, tradin in metaphors is crazy,
Because there are too many lives snapped like a broken white daisy
There are too many graphic headlines, and I am worried
It does not faze me
So we can dress up the tragedies in dazzle and gloss
It still remains that are communities feeling the real cost.
Just because a life was short
Does not mean that life was worth less
Taking a photo, sharing your sympathy
While you take us deeper into the mess.
That my friend,
Will cause civil unrest.


Don’t want the lime light
Doesn’t feel right
Keep my head down and hold tight
But it’s a fore-closure because the exposure, has left me fro zen
Try to mind the gap, fall on my back.
Need celloptap and tac to make a comeback.
Minds like spa ghetti hanging from a tie rack.
Thoughts exposed
Like cheDDar melting under the sun.
I am a SOLD*er without a uniform
Seen too much, tired and torn
Battled and now I am rattled
My community is exhausted and n’ tatters.
Life of the hunted. That is our young.
Too many dreams lost to knives and guns.
Cries for help simply shunned.
Like an old chevy, our hearts our heav y,
when will we let our young be free?
Why can’t we let our children live the life they deserve?
Instead we hear the 100th headline bout stabbing on another turf.
It feels too me like we are loosing too many young souls on earth
And if they are being born to die why are we giving birth?
We need a new sound, new range.
If we stop arguing about our postcodes, we can create a change.
We need to stop the hating and start engaging
Youth violence is worldwide
Politicians are not helping, so it’s on us all
as one voice, one community,
To turn the tide.
Youth are 43% of the global murder rate.
And to complicate, its because we discriminate
against a mans colour or beliefs that is causing all this loss and hate.
So we need to make a choice, do we want to loose another young life?
Or unite together and be one voice?

Genocide by Casey Bailey

I am a spoken word artist from Birmingham. My work aims to unlock personal and social issues with a combination of honesty and humor.

This piece, ‘Genocide’, was written after a conversation with a friend who had recently returned from Srebrenicia, having visited the graves of many massacred in the genocide that occurred there.

The video was filmed and edited by Pippa Riddick as part of a project called PowerPlant, created in conjunction with Apple and Snakes.

If people want to see or here anymore of my stuff, they can type baileysrapandpoetry into Facebook of YouTube, or go to baileysrapandpoetry.com