Category: 48%
Piffle Pfeffel
Alexander Boris De Pfeffel Johnson
Would like us to believe
That he is a man of the people fighting
For our democracy –
Piffle Pfeffel!
His arguments brittle,
Hatred inciting, racism igniting,
Self-promotion his skill,
The man plotting to shut down our Parliament –
Tyrannical clown king
Piffle Pfeffel,
Pfeffel sounds so like
Piffle: nonsense; rubbish; gibberish; drivel;
Twaddle; claptrap; noise; tripe;
Baloney; Bunkum; Bunk; Balderdash; Babble;
And other words for lies,
Piffle Pfeffel,
Idiocy worn as the ultimate mask,
Behind Johnson’s hokum
The sly autocrat who utilises farce,
He’s the institution
He in vainest glory feigns to take to task –
Piffle Pfeffel,
School boy of Eton
Then Balliol, Oxford to read the classics
In which the elite learn
Too often customs of ‘soft supremist’
Via Caucasian curriculums
History thinned into white-centralist
Ideas and idioms,
He’ll style himself a modern Odysseus
Battling with Trojans,
That old Butcher Boris,
Our blood on his hands as he serves us the meat –
Our future the carcass,
Must each eat our bones at his merry conceit?
Yet, his role in office
Thus far historic in its early defeats –
Piffle Pfeffel,
Though he has a Queen’s ear and directs her pen,
The UK constitution
Must be codified to prevent such events;
Proroguing parliament,
In other words silencing all debate or dissent
To force, without consent,
Unthinkable ruin, such entitlement
Has scarred a continent,
A globe, a Northern Ireland Peace Agreement,
The UK itself rent;
Torn as he and his chase preferment,
His fibs don’t relent,
Piffle Pfeffel,
Alexander the Un-great, realm divider
Entitled Trump-like twin,
Dividing neighbours, dismantling traders,
Behold the sole sovereign
Who would silence discussion in both chambers
‘Til he, Count Despot wins,
No matter the costs, the losses, the dangers
As whiles wear paper thin,
Piffle Pfeffel,
That is what I call him,
The worst PM we’ve seen.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
For Sovereignty? A Zanze
They say it’s all for sovereignty;
For parliament’s authority,
But look how fast they turn the key
To shut up the democracy
They say it’s all for, so
Pardon our deep distrust,
Regardless of past votes
We see their power lust,
They say it’s all
For us; these fibs,
Fakes, phoneys, frauds
With voices glib,
They say
They disagree
With laws passed by MPs,
They say it’s all for sovereignty?
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
The Will
“The will of the people”, she says,
Though the UK is divided
As Brexit drills on, come what May,
Accords wrecked where lies decided
The will of the people;
But they do not serve us,
Pretending it feeble
As millions amass;
The will of the
Once Great Britain’s
Identity
March, London,
The will
Written in grey
Was never this oil spill,
“The will of the people,” she says.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Petition to Revoke Article 50 (reached over 5.5 million, so far)

(Alternative Text: Countless people waving EU flags and anti-Brexit banners as they march in London)
No Deal Haiku
those who want no deal
pushing us to leap the ledge,
lemmings on a cliff.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Post-Factual Democracy
In this post-factual democracy
we are seen collectively;
the world forgets
that, in 2016
48 % voted
‘Remain’,
But most of us don’t remember that,
For we are drip fed again and again, again
The idea that Britain is united behind Brexit,
The PM tells repeatedly how, in the general election
80 percent of us chose parties with a Brexit manifesto
But, there was little choice, in this undemocratic system
Seeking a divorce from its own scapegoat, our status quo is
Weighed irrefutably in favour of one of two parties ever getting in,
Citizens have a muted voice and restricted representation that does not go
With an idea that we agree, comply with or know. We’ve been told our decision.
To disagree, it seems, is to be undemocratic as we are taught to follow
A yellow brick road, but we can’t click our heels to return home
And it’s only the Brexiters who are shown on television,
European neighbours regard at us now with fury,
Confusion, frustration, ridicule, disdain, pity
“Only eating biscuits and drinking tea”
In Coordinator Verhofstadt’s eyes
The UK described as ‘disorderly’
‘Crashing’, feeble of mind
Into self-made injury
Upon which we
Cannot stand.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Making Progress?
“I’m making progress, Mr. Speaker,”
We hear Jeremy Corbyn state,
I watch the opposition leader,
As he ignores all calls for debate,
Undeterred, unheard, on with his task;
“I’m making progress, Mr. Speaker,”
“Yes, but towards what?” our silence asks
Cracking delicate glass, their mirror
In each other; a work of Dada
Where masked surrealism prevails,
“I’m making progress, Mr. Speaker,”
Just before each amendment fails,
Falls, and there is no leader I trust;
He cannot overcast Theresa
Who, nebulous, calls out from the dust
“I’m making progress, Mr. Speaker.”
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Alternative Arrangements
Arcane these halls, wherein these walls
the pomp and thrills
shroud the lack of clarity;
where the right to a voice
and the order of bills
denotes a lack of legal parity.
2019, the 29th of January,
each motion falls, well, almost all;
one strange one is given charity.
Hopes of extension are lost;
no breathing space
to find out what is real
or to replace 600 or more laws
leaving Europe will displace.
The promised date of another meaningful
Parliamentary ballot,
or the sequence of the day’s amendments
defines how those amendments fall.
The backstop;
which, after over two years
writing between red lines
we’re promised,
against all past assurances
will be redefined;
the nebulousness called ‘alternative arrangements’ this time.
Not for the first time
we all ask what just happened;
to what are we consigned?
In these arcane processes
can you hear
nations unite
around the cruxes
as common sense cries out
and people turn from left to right
to ask the question of 2019;
what does ‘alternative arrangements’ mean?
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Dear Ministers
Dear Ministers,
Oh, dear ministers,
Oh dear, ministers,
I have listened, ministers,
To the speeches you gave,
I have seen you, leaders,
How some choose to behave,
I offer up broken couplets
Too messy to make the grade,
Like the Eton Mess you serve us;
Dominic Raab
You’ve had a fair stab
At getting the Brexit you craved,
As quill-master in Cabinet,
Aren’t you part of the mess that’s been made?
But no one’s got a sane plan yet,
How can your vision be saved?
We’ll lose our voice, increase our debt,
Can we not end the whole Brexit crusade?
Andrea Leadsom
I can’t fathom your reasons
For taking a lead upon
Leaving,
It’s not buying us freedom
Just Isolation
More homelessness,
And alienation
That will leave most of us
Grieving,
Boris Johnson
Tone down your ambition
When it estranges our nation,
Where you get facts from
I cannot imagine
But few of them have any traction,
Oh Michael Gove
I don’t mean to scold
But there isn’t much else I can say,
As we’re forced down a road
Which will see us implode –
You were warned Brexit would be this way,
Please, Jacob Rees-Mogg,
Could you stop playing God –
Draining dregs of Britain’s Great,
The Brexiters will no longer applaud
When they examine the state of our state,
You campaigned for something we cannot afford
That’s encouraging extremist hate,
Which will undermine the rule of law,
And you don’t quite have the mandate,
Liam Fox
We’re on the rocks,
Could you rise to our defence?
Brexit has hit expected roadblocks,
Your euro-scepticism makes little sense,
Jeremy Corbyn,
Please curb your boredom,
We need a real opposition,
You’ve been sat there for months
Letting them play the trumps
Not challenging many decisions,
Please don’t stay in the dumps
Between scuffles and bumps,
Wake up, and get with the mission,
You look like your waiting for Godo to come,
Seeming apathy enlarges division
And that’s not a thing we can build on,
Theresa May,
You campaigned to remain
But the deal offered
Is no sort of plan;
Neither here nor there,
Can you tell, I’m not a big fan?
But I have to be fair,
Making Brexit happen
would make any despair,
So, could we start agreeing
That this is demeaning
And Brexit can’t get anywhere?
Frank Field
Please yield,
The foodbank ques
Are already too long,
Think what we’ll lose
If no-deal rules
And our bargaining power
Is all gone,
I honour your ardour
But you’re plain wrong,
And, let me make it clear;
Immigrants belong,
When you raise fear
It resonates on, on, on,
We’re better inside
Making change
Than outside when everything’s gone,
Shouting in
With nothing but our rage
To live on,
You’ll only succeed in limiting
How any of us engage –
Best abort the mistaken vision
At this last sand-grain stage,
Kate Hoey,
What are you doing?
You won’t end the single market
This exit will just lead to our ruin –
And guess who’ll be hit the hardest
If borders are closed, no food getting in?
The working class would die the fastest.
If we’ve hope of any solution
We have to take stock and move past this;
We need a codified constitution
But breaking union won’t help this,
And Brexit won’t offer social justice
But more hunger and less protections,
Ester McVey,
This is far from OK;
Brexiteering
Cripples the UK,
Throwback ideas stirring
Our fears,
And nostalgia for Empire days
In faraway years,
But when ballots say Brexit
It was ever going to be
A state of disarray
As a third-party country,
This was a foundation
Not to vote leave,
We break more than one
Precious unity,
But, for diverse reasons,
On one thing we agree;
This deal won’t work for our nation –
It will mean more poverty
And give near zero security
Or peace,
But Brexit could be no other way –
As most legal advisors agree,
Now our nation has to pay
But have no protection or say
In EU policies,
I could go on with my anti-Brexit song
But would any of you really listen?
You’ve been ignoring each other for so long
As we’re forced to endure such division.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Heptarchy
Once there were seven kingdoms
Of Anglo-Saxon dominance;
Anglia, Kent, Essex,
Mercia and Wessex
Northumbria and Sussex,
Before tenth century unification
Into what became old England,
But not yet it’s modern boundaries;
Seven realms called the heptarchy
Founded this new arrangement
Of central management, essentially,
I still see the relative estrangement
Of all other parts of the UK;
An incomplete enfranchisement
Underpins our other ‘unities’
Where heptarchic centricity holds sway,
When it is thought convenient,
To compromise lives, look the other way
And rip up fragile, vital peace agreements,
When some English MPs side-line or deny,
This feels true again today
When I watch Westminster Parliament;
Though I know some ministers care greatly,
The problems stretch out to such an extent
Blinkered thinking seems to be the generality;
Despite our interconnections culturally,
Despite interdependence economically,
Despite the shared need for security,
Old England is treated as a relative priority;
Northern Irish fears, questions and grievance,
Shelved in Brexit deals, not given real credence,
Indifference buttresses treating another’s existence
As subsidiary to our need for insurance,
Encouraging escalation in cross border violence,
The chance of peace lost is not a cost worth
The elusive ideal of so-called self-governance,
Northern Ireland threatened by the backstop
And an opening for conflict and social chaos,
The reason Westminster speaks of this at all? –
They need Northern Irish votes to seal the deal,
The Northern Ireland that voted to remain,
Where you can travel over to Ire by train,
Why would we trade this for either nation’s pain?
Precious and perilous the amity between men,
Paramilitaries on both sides still have guns,
Brexit can’t be allowed to become
Heptarchia; or a central England predilection
Provoking the smashing of any kingdom,
What of the Gibraltians?
98% chose Britain
Over being part of Spain,
Whilst staying fiercely European;
96% also voted to remain,
Will we squander this union?
Are they well protected by the plan –
Or will we treat their needs as alien,
Forgetting their realm in the kingdom;
The so-called United Kingdom?
Where is this debate in parliament?
Oh, I forgot, there isn’t one
Because Gibraltar has been given
No real part in any final decision,
This British Military Bastion
And bridge between continents
Neglected in isolationist vision
Loosed to the currents
Of selectively chosen ignorance,
Meanwhile Scotland speaks of a second referendum
To leave the United Kingdom
And stay in the European Union
Westminster promises for further devolution
Postponed season after season,
Amidst Westminster undemocratic deviations,
Scottish Parliament makes preparations
To build post- Brexit resilience for her population,
Then Wales and Cornwall, who both voted to leave,
Neither part of the old heptography –
Cornwall long outside English boundaries
Both long over-looked by Westminster priorities,
Treated as political minorities,
Suffering more than their portion of poverty,
Brexit was their sole opportunity
To question the balance of authority,
But was it the EU that was their enemy –
Or the swing of an English majority?
What of the Cornish Isles of Scilly?
What of the Scottish Outer Hebrides?
These small communities
Surrounded by sea
With unique histories
And identities
Sometimes as close
To other countries,
Will their ferries and boats
Still move just as freely?
If the answer is ‘no’
‘Hopefully’ or only ‘Ideally’
How can Westminster vote
For such uncertainty?
Certain Northern realms and principalities
Long divided into modern counties
Whose borders blurred over centuries
Can be heard by Westminster to a lesser degree,
Of the others caught in the undertow,
The fourteen ‘Crown Dependencies’
Not permitted a vote,
How does this affect their families
Safety, economy and futurity?
The nations termed ‘Balliwicks’
From the root-word meaning ‘bailiff’,
Once seen as empire’s colonies,
Now proudly autonomous countries,
Yet still, in some complex way legally
Described as British Territories,
Making us ask what Britain really is,
For we share more than a monarchy;
Our Brexit deal with affect their populace
Yet where are their representatives in this?
Many of these relationships interlaced
With the family now called Commonwealth
Striving for more parity to be embraced –
Though some do call it theft by stealth
My hope is in its a partnering in trials faced –
A hope for those by climate change threatened,
By drought, war, tides or floods displaced,
That help does come from a community of nations,
A harsh Brexit winter could require such grace
But do we consider their needs in our calculations?
How often is apparent worth computed by race?
Former realms and current friends in
North and South Atlantic,
Africa, the Indian Ocean
Antarctica and the Pacific
Many with the flag on Britain
Making part of their own flag,
Of our commonwealth cousins
Our mates in Australia
And New Zealand –
Among the closest we have
Despite the distance,
They’ve been there for us
Like our kin in India and Pakistan,
Side by side through war’s tumult
Yet here Asian citizens
Are too often thrown insults
Here, seeming Anglo-Saxons
Appear treated as higher status
Than those whose origin is thought Celt,
But Caucasian Brits get preference
To almost everybody else,
Many nations in the Caribbean
Whose Windrushers rushed to assist
Us in modern Britain’s darkest time,
With them, Britain rose like a phoenix,
Then there is land used by our armed forces
Like Akrotiri and Dhekelia –
British Territories in Cyprus,
Names to most Britons, unfamiliar,
Our deal affects Cyprian neighbours,
Do we properly consider this?
Last but the opposite of least
Guernsey, Jersey, The Ise of Man –
How do each fit with us with Brexit?
Beyond issues of customs and taxes
Are interlinked histories and narratives
And our dependence on dependencies,
If we are to make a truth of the promise
That we will be secure and stable,
Westminster must be far more inclusive
About who sits around negotiating tables
For any Brexit deal to be persuasive –
Or, frankly even workable,
Because there is a fact that is pervasive –
The biggest threats are global
As are families, communities, friendships,
Many opportunities and goals,
A poor deal will tear us all to bits
As we see local groups and businesses
More consumed by trans-national corporations
Whose size and power are bigger than nations,
So, outside nostalgic heptarchic fantasies
People need states to work in collaboration
To find balance sovereignty and union
Because raising the drawbridge is no solution,
As I write this, I hope Brexit won’t happen –
I identify as ardently British-European
And do not think we’ve found a deal
That anyone could call a solid foundation,
But whatever is to come we have to get real –
Customs becoming insular will diminish Britain
And that narrowing would be beyond geographical.
Once there were seven kingdoms
Who, realising division made them vulnerable,
Banded together to form England,
Like Scottish Clans, the benefits considerable,
Now we risk all unions,
Yet, if we understand each relationship has value
Then horizons can expand
While our societies become more sustainable
And personal and communal sovereignty
Becomes a wee bit more attainable.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Sovereign State of Stupidity
First you notice the bare shop shelves,
And thank the lord you stocked up on tins,
You nip in to your nan’s, who doesn’t look well
To make sure she’s got enough in,
Her homecare was cut, so she fell,
16hrs waiting for her to be seen,
The news says the country is going to hell,
But who’s still got time for such things
When your travelling daughter calls you to yell
That they’ve cancelled all fights home from Turin,
When you went for a meal on a Saturday night,
The pizza place was closed, a curry palace alight,
You hope those who were inside are alright,
There seems to be even more crime on the streets
And you miss the old, old days of bobbies on the beat,
The family complain there’s so little to eat,
There’s no fish in the chippy, the docks lie empty
While ministers mangle deals for our fisheries,
Embargoes on veggie meals and most gluten free –
On anything from Sweden to Malta, Denmark to Cyprus,
There’s no Belgium waffles, no sugar for tea,
Who knew they packaged it in Hungary?
The neighbours’ children asked why Santa hadn’t been,
His mum said he was stopped at the border and couldn’t get in,
Amidst the rising theft and violence
If leaver’s turn to me and shout
How none of this makes sense
I’ll tell them, they let the monsters out,
The racists and extremists lurking in the darkness
Given an excuse for their worst excesses,
And it will seem like too many couldn’t care less
As we deal with vicious cuts to basic services;
Services like education, care, police, the NHS,
Charities, social work and security forces,
While small businesses fail because no one invests,
Farmers nosedive as they lose EU subsidies
Ailes empty in local grocers and supermarkets,
Welcome to the Sovereign State of Stupidity,
The Ports near closed, food nor people make it through,
When we limit free movement, we limit ours too,
Make ghost towns of Gatwick, Luton, Heathrow,
Stopping freights and ferries from Grimsby to Glasgow,
Perhaps the one temporary winner is the Ozone
But too many are hungry, jobless
With dwindling hope and no home,
Too many drained and feeling useless,
No one lives in the house next door;
The bitter irony is priceless,
Without immigrants we are too poor
To handle the housing crisis,
We don’t have their taxes anymore
And homelessness persists,
As wages freeze and prices soar,
Corporations still getting rich,
Less staff on the tills, fat cats on the board,
While young and old crouch by the doors
Of houses and flats so few can afford,
Medicine stockpiled, or not getting through,
Prescriptions unavailable, costs sky high,
Surgeries cancelled again as they lengthen the que,
The terrible truth; avoidable pain while the saveable die
And this won’t be eased by anti-migrant curses
When we’ve sent away half the doctors and nurses
Because some of them ‘weren’t from round here’
Or due to funding cuts and restricted resources
While the national debt gets ever heavier
As we pay for twenty-seven national divorces,
But gone too are those politicians’ excuses,
Having stocked fires of xenophobic fear,
Those they made stooges for the bruises
Fought back, moved on or disappeared
And most of us miss them and want them here,
Don’t blame Europeans or the world, or raise your fists,
Or say it’s all down to EU politics, or just the way it is,
Don’t look to the financiers – they warned us of this,
There were warning signs half the nation chose to miss,
So many feel betrayed, denied,
From Belfast, Edinburgh, Gibraltar
We watch as the United Kingdom divides
And pray to God by every name there won’t be war,
Due to fragile peace accords we all but undid
And the callousness we cannot alter
Towards international people who work, live
Study, give and made this nation prosper
Who we treated with distrust, deceit, conceit,
To be really frank, we should’ve known better,
In 1945 we celebrated a fascist defeat –
Tantrums saying we expected more
Or this wasn’t what leavers voted for
Won’t help us dig out of the embers,
The EU can’t be wholly criticised
For favouring its members,
I think many member nations tried
To compromise when Brexiters
Just wanted the UK to sever,
But we were stronger together,
We are now a third party
Made to follow others’ rules,
Desperate people conjure enemies;
All the usual suspects accused,
Amid rising hate crimes and bigotry
As we see a breakdown in society’s rules,
Muslim women harassed in the street
And black children openly bullied in school,
Old prejudices becoming less and less discrete
Of course, some twits will blame Jews
Imagining a grand conspiracy
Though there are no facts to back up their views
And things are made worse by such idiocy,
The protections for people with disabilities,
The care for the immobile, ill or elderly,
The ongoing research into curing diseases,
All of it slows down, some of it freezes,
Fuel prices higher as they sponsor fracking,
Energy crisis, environmental backtracking,
Wildlife and eco charities losing their backing
We can’t quite believe it, but it’s happening,
We seem to be self-governing our nation collapsing,
As the globe faces the task of a massive remapping,
All hale the farce made of democracy,
We are autonomous citizens of hypocrisy.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
(A poem about a worst-case scenario Brexit Britain. I do have more cheery poems too, like ‘Fa La La; a protest song to the tune of Deck the Halls )
The Poisoned Cup
Passing the poisoned cup
One prime minister resigned,
Another crowned by tearing up
The security of Northern Ireland,
When Tory seats were not enough
To form a near-valid government,
The purulent chalice passes
Hand to hand, mouth to mouth,
As we hear gunfire in Alsace;
Blood on the streets of Strasburg
Where sits the EU parliament,
December, in Westminster Palace
The cabinet creates an adjournment
As their Brexit deal is met with malice,
Thus, the cup holder made the judgment
To postpone the parliamentary ballot
Until all debate becomes redundant,
In the hope MPs do what they are told
When later, a decision is even more urgent,
As if it was this or watch the world implode,
They say this really is the best Brexit,
Brim full of bitterness that corrodes
It’s Brexit itself a ‘no’ vote may prevent,
The grim fairy-tale half the UK was sold
Cannot manifest; it has no substance,
You can’t cross a rainbow for a pot of gold,
So, the PM makes deferments to quell insurgence
And, far more worryingly, to defeat debate,
Employing the terror and the turbulence
So, she can later say it is too late
To heed the union’s fate
Or the Good Friday Peace Agreement,
Using the fear of further delays
To rally support for this form
Of European abandonment,
That the continent views as
Foolish arrogance and scorn;
A circus of self-indulgence
As hardliner Brexiteers suffer from
Cognitive dissonance
At the death of their candyfloss unicorn,
Millions watch as Andy Serkis
Does his impression of Gollum
As May guarding her “precious”;
A dark pact become obsession
As ordinary people pay the cost,
She is not a lone politician –
But she is the cabinet’s boss,
This is perilous,
We would have been better off
If we had never taken this road,
Flattening the atlas,
Turning princes into desiccated toads,
Pulling down the Corona Borealis
To claim the constellations as our own,
Here in London,
A noose is carried at the crossroads,
What has our referendum imparted?
Parliament was not yet open
Before negotiations started,
Then, in the Commons, the withholding
Of vital legal documents;
Then, despite our constitution’s lack of coding,
The government found in contempt
Of its house in the attempt
To push through the deal
The vast majority resent,
Triggering calls
For a vote of no confidence
Which saves the premier from herself,
Giving a mass to her insistence,
While shedding doubt upon the doubts
About her proposed agreement,
They do not vote her out,
If they had, what then?
The limits of the entire cabinet
Fall on the shoulders of one woman
Who took up the festering goblet,
If the task passed to the fluff-headed man
To carry out his harsher-edged Brexit plan,
What then?
The Tory’s, faced with that deterrent,
Given assurance of May’s pre-term abdication,
Left her in power, merely weakened,
In committee room fourteen
They cheered the outcome,
But the PMs support remains slim,
This is not on the head of one human
But there will be an awesome reckoning
For all when all the posturing is done,
Will there be another election?
Or a second referendum
To hear the people speaking?
For Remainers, these were among
The many reasons for not leaving,
Forewarned and foreseen outcomes,
Beyond all the proposed tweaking
In every EU meeting,
For we are no longer the pater of imperialism
And this won’t alter by self-deceiving,
We cannot be lead by wistfulness, surrealism,
Or chest-thumping bleating,
This failure was set by the result of the referendum,
The dice thrown in June 2016,
The choice made was ever a loaded gun,
One thing is clear,
The 48% are no longer sovereign,
We are lost in this decision;
The representatives I see
No longer represent me,
As a lifelong British citizen
I grieve for my ailing country,
This broken union for our children,
The open gates of poverty
Bigotry and community division,
Bringing betrayal of heritage, ancestry
And lives yet to come,
If the Brexit of a small section
Of the half that won a victory
By two percent,
Continues, facilitated by
An administration with a weak mandate
And a disordered opposition,
Then any reclaimed sovereignty is fake;
A toxic proposition
Whose cuts will cut more deeply,
Future generations
Will blame all British, communally,
And we won’t be able to save them
From the poisoned cup we gave them.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Windrush
This one’s for citizens who came on ‘Windrush’;
The generations that generated renewal
During and after the war, first dying in service,
Then more came to help rebuild, refuel,
Re-spark, here at the birth of the NHS,
Facing xenophobes, teddy boys, racists,
Yet ‘they’ are not ‘them’ but part of us,
Bought from across the Commonwealth,
And now, how can we expect their exodus?
It seems like ethnic cleansing by stealth,
Where history is bleached out; whitewashed
Until a nation perverts and destroys itself,
Every single Britain is a child of multiple migrations;
Our ancestors came in need, greed, fight or trade
Through millennia of voluntary or enforced relocations;
By discovery, captivity, by each road built, each stone laid,
Windrushers are the same, they came by invitation
Not by blade, treated as if the latest to invade,
Despite being part of our heartbeat, post devastation
In a shell-shocked, rationed kingdom, so we began again,
How soon civil rights, so hard won, seem stolen away;
As memories fade, bigotry plays on a loop, ingrained
But not innate, division is not fate but a kind of decay;
A deep rot that sets in when instability reigns,
We less aware of our internal struggles than the USA,
Of the grit it must have taken for Windrushers to stay,
Make this the land of their children’s, children’s, children,
When racism was not recognised as the crime it is today
And race riots began in Birmingham, Kensington, Brixton,
Many black citizens couldn’t vote or have their say
Until the British Nationality Act of 1981,
Yet black and ethnic minorities continued on, unfazed,
Discrimination was further written into institutions
Over decades bias lost battles, but was never erased,
Prejudice a virus, sometimes contained, rarely gone,
Now, in a separatist world, white-supremacist crusades
Are launched by government; an act of extremism,
A fictional homegrown enemy, House of Commons made;
Ministers like missiles misfiring, misdirected missions
Against longstanding citizens, a bill that spits on graves
Of war heroes, workers, scholars, in bloody amputations
Treating pioneers and entrepreneurs like discarded slaves,
These inhabitants who have enriched all known occupations,
These families, this part of our communally nourished culture;
Part of the whole, of ourselves, amid dire Brexit negotiations
These tax-payers now among those described as ‘the other’,
Look Britain, see how many are subject to alienation
Let’s ask ourselves this, do we want a fascist future;
A future of white-centric, little Island isolation?
Commonwealth nations once gathered to deter
A powerful regime of murderous oppression,
Beside world-wide allies, enduring together,
Then, with past foes, we birthed new protections
For peace and human dignities for many, forever,
Now, while many gains are squandered by negation
We open doors wide to every antique phobia;
To radical cultural and racial discriminations,
Alongside nationalistic anti-European patter,
And blinkered, blanket anti-immigration,
Irrational rhetoric, as fat cats get fatter,
Fed by rising injustices and violations,
Hidden by resulting clamour and chatter
Racists take advantage of mass confusion,
We forget yet again that black lives matter,
Backing people into traps of self-justification
As they are forced once more to strive
For all covered by the human rights declaration;
Home, country, community all potentially denied,
Policies of exclusion contrive new manifestations,
As if for some it is a crime to simply be alive,
We needed Windrush to swell a ravaged population,
Against the odds, they and their descendants thrived,
Yet they’re deprived of protections of patriation
As if being punished because they survived.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
48%
We are living in dark times
but know this,
half the nation is by your side.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Brexit Playlist
This is my playlist
For the farce of Brexit;
Illusion, by VNV nation
From the album ‘Judgement’,
Momentum, Song of Return,
From the Trajectory EP
The Writing’s on the Wall
By Sam Smith,
Under Pressure by Queen & Bowie,
Then Thunder by The Prodigy
From the album ‘Invaders Must Die,’
Mixed with a little Prey
From The Neighbourhood,
Both of which seem now to be policy,
So I play Some Kind of Joke
Courtesy of AWOLNATION,
Destroy Everything You Touch
By Ladytron – the end –
Of Disk One,
My playlist for Brexit continues
With AfroCelt Sound System’s
‘Dark Moon, High Tide,’
Imagine Dragon’s Battle Cry,
Renegades by X-Ambassadors
And Time is Running Out by Muse,
Their Supermassive Black Hole,
And a little I Feel it All by Fiest,
Sleep to Dream by Fiona Apple,
Pompei, and Blame by Bastille’s
Album, Wild World,
Invisible Empire, KT Turnstall,
Grey Days by Chelsea Wolfe,
From her Abyss Collection,
And The Wrong Direction
By Passenger,
(By this point, I’ve cranked the volume
Up much louder, )
Then Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
We No Who U Are,
And Lauren Aquilina’s Wild Fire
From the album Liars.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Shoes?
Britain snickers through deep Brexit blues,
As the unelected bows to the unelected,
A divided nation, half of us did not choose
Any farcical cabal’s anti-migrant objective,
Those with least even more likely to lose
To every elite tax-haven collective,
From democracy, we are so far removed,
That we abandon any political perspective
To obsess about the new PM’s shoes,
Not the trampled rights of the unprotected,
Media spins our views with soundbite news
As if the world will be most avidly affected,
Not by policy, prejudice, deception or misuse
But by the footwear a woman has selected.
Antonia Zenkevitch
(This one was written – and first shared on other media – just after the 2016 referendum when May took over after our previous PM resigned.)
Fa La La; a protest to ‘Deck the Halls’
PM singing Yuletide carols, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, While the UK is in peril, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, MPs don their best apparel Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Postponing this vote is immoral, Fa la la la la, la la la la, See the blazing deal before us, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Nothing in it will assure us, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Not much time now, can you measure Fa la la, la la la, la la la, How all this stalling cranks up pressure? Fa la la la la, la la la la, Fast away now, each chance passes Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Hail Brexiteers that act like asses, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Hear the far-right loonies gather, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Xenophobic, racist chatter, Fa la la la la, la la la la Yet, gather now all ye Remainers, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Our sense of union may sustain us, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Stand for your values, stand by neighbours, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Don’t let the lies and hatred blind us, Fa la la la la, la la la la, A people’s vote would re-engage us, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Or vote the deal down, burn the pages, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, If it’s the best deal, Brexit’s failed us, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, There is too much that it endangers, Fa la la la la, la la la la, We will protect what we most treasure, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Whatever happens stick together, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, And keep warm in the frosty weather, Fa la la, la la la, la la la, Yes, keep warm in the frosty weather, Fa la la la la, la la la la, Fa la la la la, la la la la! by Antonia Sara Zenkevitch (Song to the tune of ‘Deck the Halls’)
I Love Britain
I love Britain,
I love British tradition,
The cuppa that heals everything,
From an Asian plantation,
Sweetened by sugar from African
Or South American origin,
I love Britain,
I love British tradition,
Curry, pizza or kebab
Welcomes our weekend in,
Making hearts glad
With beer from Belgium
Or wine from many lands
As we watch Strictly Come Dancing
With multi-national contestants
Pairing, befriending, competing
For the nation’s entertainment,
This is Britain,
This is British tradition,
Mutual international influence,
Yet idiosyncratic, different,
Built by eons of immigrants,
Like an ancient Scottish clan
With ancestry from France
Or Gaul, Scandinavia, and Ireland,
And yes, we must support
Local businesses when we can,
Like the British institution, Betty’s,
A Yorkshire tea room
Started by a man from Switzerland,
Yes, we need good local economies,
The world has limits to how we expand,
Supporting diverse, local communities
Doesn’t require any racist grandstand,
Just choosing small and medium enterprises,
When we can, makes a massive difference,
I often hear about the Battle of Britain,
One of our chronicles of World War Two,
In which our forebears defended freedom;
Fought off fascism, kept our cool,
Many of our pilots came from Poland,
A fact too few British people knew,
Like Gurkhas who helped guard our islands
And Caribbean kin who came to the rescue
from Jamaica, Trinidad and Tobago …
To protect, help feed and rebuild too,
Joining a multitude of homegrown heroes,
All of whom I feel I owe my life to,
I love Britain,
I love British tradition,
English, a tongue to many nations
By friendship or by trade,
Imperialism and crusade;
The world map changed by past decisions,
Bright discoveries, grim slave trade
And controversial Christian missions,
A full mix in which Britain stole and gave,
We bade the world come in
Because we were built by empire,
Our culture of symbiotic derivation
Forged by families who’ve walked through fire,
Britain, my nation, who I love and question,
For there are histories that pain me
And facts glossed over, side-lined or forgotten,
Our stories are often written to deny diversity,
The lie that we were all white ‘til recent generations
Is typical to a certain kind of British duplicity,
The best of us is not reflected by Nelson’s Column,
Ask who built the streets and towers of our cities
For they came from everywhere and here,
Ask who harvested this spring’s British strawberries,
The same answer booms out loud and clear,
I love Britain,
I love British tradition
But too often we’ve no idea
Who we are.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Yes, I’m British
To the fool who said I wasn’t British,
My father’s, father’s father was Cornish,
From a long line that worked the pits,
There’s a whisper of Welsh,
And a good dose of Essex –
64 sixth great- grandparents
For each human to exit –
Bring on DNA tests for xenophobes,
Extremists and racists,
To the fool who said I wasn’t British
Because I use the name Zenkevitch
Not Brown, Jones or Smith –
Though my ancestry has names like this
Along with Eastern European and Sephardic,
I am proud of my name and heritage,
I use my maiden name even after marriage
To my love of Northern parentage
Whose own ancestry goes wide and deep
Into this land and, at some point, overseas,
To the fool who said I wasn’t British,
Each one of us is multifaceted,
Every human has a wondrous mix
Of choice and cultural inheritance
And you and I are no different in this,
To the fool who said I wasn’t British –
Do you really know what British is?
A mix of Saxon, Norman, Viking, Pict
Was just the start of part of it,
To the fool who said I wasn’t British,
I was born it, others chose it
As they’ve done for countless centuries
In our interwoven histories,
To the fool who said I wasn’t British,
It is far from true, though they might wish it
For the Arian vision of their kind of Brexit,
I say to them; stop it, you’re being a twit.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Brexit Sucks
British Union is now also under threat,
Reneges on pledges by our government,
Economic isolation and collapse predicted,
Xenophobes in power left us all conflicted,
Idiocy and recklessness sold as a solution,
Totalitarianism risks; no real constitution,
Senselessness seems to rule the rulers of the hour,
United across borders, people had more power,
Corporate privatisation of services we fought for –
Killing our NHS and schools, yet we pay even more,
Spin, misdirection, and lies, with ruin at the core.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
(written and first shared in the lead up to the referendum 2016)
A Very Quiet Civil War
No roses, red or white To define who’s against And who is for, We cross divides of left and right In this very quiet civil war, Half the politicians make no sense As they fight between themselves, Outside their halls the air is tense As the ranks of marchers swell, The unrest in schools, parks, Homes and parliaments, A truth our leaders don’t tell; This un-United Kingdom’s rent; Ripped in two as the vote tore Us all into halves of a land Each one of us adore, This is a very quiet civil war, Fought at dinner tables And work corridors, It burns us to the core, A conflict capable Of seeing union fall Either side of Hadrian’s wall, Of breaking trust between Parts of the UK across seas, Of breaking truce in Northern Ireland, This is a civil conflict never before seen, Where none is in command, But plenty are alarmed And those hard up are harmed, The numbers between leave or remain Had a four percent margin, And there was no “I don’t know yet, Please explain.” And now this simmering conflict As our economy depletes, Homeless people line the streets As MPs debate a Brexit, Saying the nation agrees But this kingdom’s on its knees And two percent over half Does not mandate Tearing us apart, As you please, Soon it will be too late To prevent this mockery of democracy, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Gibraltar Voted to stay in Europe, not leave, This will tear apart families, Communities, identities, Businesses, public services And children’s opportunities, Endanger our rights And imperil peace, For a difference of two percent Each way off half and half, Two years of argument About how best to ruin our countries As we yell, march, weep and laugh, And nooses are tied on the mast, But this could all have been avoided If, when such a close vote was cast, A second vote was called, The first one voided, Because with such a narrow margin passed A clear way forward is eroded, There is blood on the street - Though it is mostly discrete - And anger when different Groups of people meet, This is a very quiet civil war But no less destructive, Every single part of our lives Will be or is being disrupted, People are struggling to survive On both sides, And hopes built on opportunist lies Will be denied, The old law; to rule, first divide Played out in this charade, As violent acts and hate crime rise When ‘hard times’ is redefined, Some will call it ‘race war’- A term I despise, But that’s only the aim Of one part of one side, And as for the Remainers, we call to unite Beyond the lines of born here or not, Beyond definitions of left or right, Black, Asian, Jewish, White, The half of the UK some MPs forgot, It’s up to us to hold the light - Cheesy as it sounds, It’s a cliché for a reason, We are the underground union That occupy our towns. Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Stinky Quatrain
Where are the opposition parties on telly?
Prolonged Brexit debate’s getting smelly
A dose of contempt and whiffs of perfidy,
Sod this for a lark, I’m off to watch Strictly.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
One of the Underground Union
Hello All,
Welcome to a poetry site dedicated to the 48% of the UK who voted ‘Remain’ in 2016 and still believe and to the EU and world citizens who are too often scapegoated by politicians simply because they cannot vote, so are an easy target. Likewise, it is dedicated to those who were too young to vote for the shape of their futures. If you voted ‘leave’ but radically changed your mind you are just as welcome, though may find one or two of my poems triggering.
I was heavily involved in politics up until a few years ago and have always been a bit of a writer and poet. I live with a complex collection of disabilities which make going on marches for me presently out of the question. This is my march.
Feel free to share. Please excuse the fact some comments are closed, I’m simply protecting myself from abuse from the few those who use the small Brexit majority as an excuse for all kinds of extremism and hate. (A few times bitten, you learn that lesson.)
I hope you enjoy the poems. Even more importantly I hope you, whoever you are and where-ever you come from, find the best way through this political chaos for you and all you care about. Remember, we’re still stronger together and you are not alone.
Antonia