We are living in dark times
but know this,
half the nation is by your side.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
We are living in dark times
but know this,
half the nation is by your side.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
It starts as a quiet revolution
In bright jackets; les gilets jaunes
dissenting escalating taxation
overseen by President Macron,
they took to the streets
in yellow vests, to protest
tax breaks for the very rich,
and broken by tax for the rest,
so, France took to her feet,
a woman spoke of solidarity
where all faiths and cultures meet,
supporters included the police,
they gathered to talk and eat;
lifted out of their despair
by friends they never thought to meet
and change you could taste in the air,
but then the riots,
attacking people’s cars,
homes, small businesses –
a few people gone way too far
as the world witnesses
and the peaceful gilet jaunes
say the violent are not ours
and now police have batons
and the night is full of fire,
and then the man with a gun
in Strasburg Christmas market,
not one of the gillet jaunes;
the gunman called ‘Algerian terrorist’
on the television
in world media release,
all we know for certain
is the death of innocents,
a murderer; a chaotic, cold assassin
who broke lives and prayers of peace,
and the gillet jaunes forced to stay in
at the military presence speedy increase,
but they cannot find him;
every security service
seeks a known man on the run
and, for now, the yellow vests
go home until the mourning’s done.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
(a poem of solidarity across borders. I’m still European as well as British)
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
Johnson and drones,
Johnson and drones,
Is the UK overcome
By Johnson and drones?
Is political opportunism
To him more important
As he plays the heir apparent?
Is our economy a tributary
To his own ambition
Does he stand by his decision
As more than a play for popularity?
He treats our neighbours with derision
Blaming them for gross disparity
Whilst widening cracks of division,
Truth, it seems, is used with frugality,
Employed only under certain conditions;
Seen as secondary to telling a story,
Johnson and drones, Johnson and drones,
When others regard this century,
Evaluating what we’ve become,
Your name may be unknown
But these actions ripple eternally
As descendants ask what we have done.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
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.)
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 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
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
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)
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
The integrity initiative Now lacks integrity, Public resources Used improperly To damage opposition MPs, Most notedly The leader of the Labour Party, Yet Tory ministers refuse to see This is misappropriation; Stealing public money To spread misinformation, The opposite in fact To the stated modus operandi; Of how the institute must act, Conservatives provide a dodgy alibi, Saying Russians hacked Into the Institute of Integrity, While it may have veracity This explanation lacks authority, For we must ask ourselves why It is the opposition who is undermined At what, for Tory’s, is an opportune time, While the institute’s security is only questioned When Tory ministers put it in the frame With no eloquent response to the suggestion That this should never happen again. Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
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
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