Poem for Peach Blair

OUR TEACHER BLAIR

Our teacher Blair
Had tousled old hair

Big brown eyes
An enormous size

And they smiled when he walked
And they smiled when he talked

And whenever he stammered
His love only hammered

Our teacher Blair
He was always fair

Black white or brown
He’d never let us down

He taught us words
That made us fly like birds

And the meaning of together
And to stay that way forever

He taught us right
And how we’d have to fight

To make the world again
And find peace again

One hell of a teach
Was our Mr Peach

He didn’t make nno fuss
Just struggled and died for us

ANON, London

This poem was read out at a packed fringe meeting at the NUT Annual Conference last Sunday to remember East London NUT member Blair Peach, who was murdered by a police officer in Southall on 23 April 1979 whilst on a demonstration against the National Front. It is part of an anthology of poems for young people called One for Blair which anti racist teacher and now lecturer Chris Searle put together in 1989 to commemorate Blair on the 10th anniversary of his murder.

The message from this meeting was of the urgency needed now to organise against the BNP, with the European elections set for June. It is possible that this Nazi organisation could gain 7 MEP places if the turnout is low. We will need to organise in our areas to ensure that people exercise their right to vote and use it against the Nazi BNP.

A recipe for anti-racists: The British (serves 60 million)

The British (serves 60 million)

Take some Picts, Celts and Silures
And let them settle,
Then overrun them with Roman conquerors.

Remove the Romans after approximately 400 years
Add lots of Norman French to some
Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Vikings, then stir vigorously.

Mix some hot Chileans, cool Jamaicans, Dominicans,
Trinidadians and Bajans with some Ethiopians, Chinese,
Vietnamese and Sudanese.

Then take a blend of Somalians, Sri Lankans, Nigerians
And Pakistanis,
Combine with some Guyanese
And turn up the heat.

Sprinkle some fresh Indians, Malaysians, Bosnians,
Iraqis and Bangladeshis together with some
Afghans, Spanish, Turkish, Kurdish, Japanese
And Palestinians
Then add to the melting pot.

Leave the ingredients to simmer.

As they mix and blend allow their languages to flourish
Binding them together with English.

Allow time to be cool.

Add some unity, understanding, and respect for the future,
Serve with justice
And enjoy.


Note: All the ingredients are equally important. Treating one ingredient better than another will leave a bitter unpleasant taste.


Warning: An unequal spread of justice will damage the people and cause pain. Give justice and equality to all.

Poem by Lowkey for Palestine Ramalah Westbank Gaza London Gaza Protest 10 Jan 2009

Michael Rosen's poem for the children of Gaza

Michael Rosen, the prominent British Jewish writer and broadcaster and critic of Israel (he has publicly renounced his "right of return"), who was in 2007 appointed as Children's Laureate, read this poem at Speakers Corner, Hyde Park, yesterday during the rally that marked the start of the Stop the Massacre:Israel out of Gaza demonstration. Four children with him on the podium read out the names and ages of 30 of the hundreds of children killed during the Israeli onslaught on Gaza, including the five Balousha sisters.

In Gaza, children,
you learn that the sky kills
and that houses hurt.
You learn that your blanket is smoke
and breakfast is dirt.

You learn that cars do somersaults
clothes turn red,
friends become statues,
bakers don’t sell bread.

You learn that the night is a gun,
that toys burn
breath can stop,
it could be your turn.

You learn:
if they send you fire
they couldn’t guess:
not just the soldier dies -
it’s you and the rest.

Nowhere to run,
nowhere to go,
nowhere to hide
in the home you know.

You learn that death isn’t life,
the air isn’t bread.

The land is for all - you have the right to be
not dead.
The land is for all - you have the right to be
not dead.
The land is for all - you have the right to be
not dead. 
The land is for all -you have the right to be
not dead.

Poem of resistance

Someone sent me this poem to show to you...

Bruce Cockburn wrote this for Central America in 1983 but I keep
thinking about it now:

If I Had A Rocket Launcher

Here comes the helicopter -- second time today
Everybody scatters and hopes it goes away
How many kids they've murdered only God can say
If I had a rocket launcher...I'd make somebody pay

I don't believe in guarded borders and I don't believe in hate
I don't believe in generals or their stinking torture states
And when I talk with the survivors of things too sickening to relate
If I had a rocket launcher...I would retaliate

On the Rio Lacantun, one hundred thousand wait
To fall down from starvation -- or some less humane fate
Cry for Guatemala, with a corpse in every gate
If I had a rocket launcher...I would not hesitate

I want to raise every voice -- at least I've got to try
Every time I think about it water rises to my eyes.
Situation desperate, echoes of the victims cry
If I had a rocket launcher...Some son of a bitch would die

Ever tried to claim benefits?

Tim Evans - Do you want some?