Exit?
Exit what?
Exit our co-creation?
Exit equals mass confusion;
Exit means shut,
Exit Brexit;
Exit
This closing;
This sealing up;
This opening to chauvinism
This echoed forgetfulness,
This separatism,
This
Whispered fascism;
Whispered near borders,
Whispered corners of reason,
Whispered desolation over
Whispered orders,
Whispered
Truths emerge,
Truths are heard,
Truths are complex things,
Truths beyond words;
Truths examine
Truths.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
I shared a Britain Europeans could call home
In the four decades my skin was called my own,
One day I’ll tell our Islands’ descendants
I shared a Britain Europeans could call home,
Before the dice of jeopardy was thrown
And all that amity was gone and done
In the four decades my skin was called my own,
I shared a Britain Europeans could call home.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
This is the second Triolet I’ve written in as many days, inspired by a challenge set by a wonderful poet whose diverse work can be seen at https://reowr.com/ . My first triolet was 48 Percent Life, which is perhaps a better poem structurally than my second attempt at this form, but I’m enjoying this particular type of poem.
You say you’ve had enough;
This is a storm in a teacup
But we are the teacup, my love.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
A question for 2019;
What does good governance mean?
Northern Ireland’s parliament is in shutdown
With Stormont in a chronic stalemate,
The default position is uneven centralism,
Then governmental stasis in the states,
Meaning more insecurity for North Americans
And every country to which they relate,
Democrats standing up to Trump’s Republicans
Who want them to collude and participate
In a wall built to keep out Mexicans,
A farce millions cannot contemplate,
In France, we see the rise of the Gilets Jaunes
Forcing Marcon into the Grand Debate
When riot police could not keep down
The protests; government could not dominate
With gas, batons or flash ball guns,
In Brazil, two extremes woo the electorate,
One saturated with corruption, in prison
Still claiming to be compassionate
Though in ten years the nation’s been driven
Into gross inequality, theft, violence,
Knifing the opposition, a man with a mission
But one who counts minorities as less,
While in a divided United Kingdom,
Parliament is in an almighty mess,
The cusp of leaving the European Union
Is marked with bilateral anguish
With no agreed, viable solution
To the much- disputed Brexit
Taking up all the air in the room
And consuming all other policies,
Amid worsening living conditions,
Ignoring individual and collective needs,
So, I return to my earlier question
About what all this says about democracy
And other forms of administration,
Problems echoed criss-cross countries
So often wrongly blamed on migration,
I see in each the patterns of plutocracy;
Of rights and voice defined by income,
Then, amid hardships, crises of identity
Leading to questioned certainties, divisions
And rife threats to human ties and societies,
Too often undermining the rights of minorities
In rising tides of nationalism,
There are examples of covert tyrannies;
Of leaders not resigning when they should
And other top dogs taking uncivil liberties
For their own or their tribe’s preferment,
Encouraging disillusion, discouraging diversity,
Increasing alienation and disenfranchisement
In national emergencies, too often political intent
Seems partisan, not meant to broker agreement,
In each case, as in others across continents,
Security is undermined by unstable employment
And people struggling for food, mortgage or rent,
In each case there’s a sense of restricted involvement
Of people in the workings of their government,
Often leading to questions on freedom of movement
When prejudices rise from the undercurrents,
In each case, mainstream media plays its part,
Directing direct democracy, or its proxy,
Sources of funding can fuel changes of heart
Affecting each story’s legitimacy,
While every situation is different,
Each wrought with seeming infinite complexity,
There seem to be patterns that are consistent;
The need for greater political transparency;
The need for engagement, informed consent
And protections against unreachable governance
Whatever the locale; whatever the distance,
Deficits of democracy are meeting resistance
Because deceptions and social disparities
Lead to inequality and festering grievance,
As uprisings against injustice lose clarity,
Destroyed by divide to rule philosophies
Made worse by the walls of isolationists,
Maybe this is a question for psychologists,
Maybe we’re either rebels or pragmatists,
Maybe we’re enigmas for archaeologists
Or evidence against climate change denialists,
Maybe we’re each authors of the crisis
Or targets for the powerful’s devices,
Whatever the truth of it is
We’re made stronger by who’s beside us,
Beyond cultures, faiths, ideologies,
The need to be heard by our leaders
Whether these lead councils, constituencies,
Countries or cross-national assemblies,
I do not have the answers
but
I believe this, we are strengthened by unities
And valuing ourselves and our fellow humans,
To embolden interconnected communities
With shared interests and empowered regions
Served by, not serving their parliamentarians.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
They worked for decades
For their place in the sun,
As their autumns fade
They claimed their freedom
From the ache of the rain
In their muscles and bones,
Now they ache to remain
In their retirement homes,
This was not given to them;
They got there on their own,
Is their security to be stolen?
The seeds of doubt are sown;
European citizens in Britain
Are now treated as hostages,
So, their nations of origin
Do the same in this crisis,
This questions the concept of belonging;
Belonging to; belonging with; belongingness,
Both the forces of comfort and longing
And the money and belief we each invest
In the places we choose to be living,
We need to be honest
In this state of anti-immigration;
We have to own this
Process of individual rights negation,
History tells us Britishness
Is formed of centuries of integration,
Will we continue to count as less
All those who come to our nation
And add to its worth and essence?
Our ex-pats too will be distressed
If our neighbours devalue their presence,
This is Brexit’s darkest side, undressed;
Naked of all the abhorrent pretense
in the lies that sought to impress
Some citizens sitting on the fence,
To say we Brits can live anywhere
Yet limit who comes here makes no sense,
Yet many a Brexiteer seems unaware
Their acts may have weighted consequence.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Hello All,
Hoping your year started peacefully. I started 2019 listening to ‘Let’s Face the Music and Dance‘ by Irving Berlin, sung by the great Nat King Cole. The song for me captures the spirit of making merry no matter what troubles may be ahead and finding joy in life and love. I was not feeling well earlier in the evening – I have complex disabilities and chronic health conditions – but by the time we saw the fireworks from our open bedroom window and read out Tennison, I was warm and hopeful. The story about how we ended up reading the classic ‘Ring Out, Wild Bells‘ is shared in a new poem I wrote the next day. It centers on the story of a woman honouring a beautiful tradition her mother kept.
I’ve submitted this poem together with one other and three art pieces into an International Mental Health & Wellbeing ‘Postcard’ Show. Another poem of hope is written today:
A January Sunday morning,
After my ritual of washing
Dan comes in with the Guardian,
While drinking tea I’m listening
To desired reports, hope glistening;
In the USA diverse representatives sworn in
In the UK, political rebellion against fracking
And I hear, deep inside, a caged bird sing
While doors with rusty iron locks are slowly opening.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Meanwhile, a piece I wrote last year on disability and access has been published:
So, these are my offerings for hope and determination going into 2019.
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
With all that is happening in the world, including but not only Britain, I wish anyone reading this (regardless of faith) peace, wellbeing, and security now and into 2019. There are many troubles; from volcanos and tsunamis to the ques at Foodbanks, from conflicts and shootings in Strasburg to rising cold and homelessness, we have challenges to face. Many of my poems speak of the harsher realities but there is almost always hope hidden in the seams and margins. When and if it feels too much I look for the helpers, for they are always out there. They are the ones giving out hot drinks, food, blankets or even a kind word or smile. They are everywhere, and if you can’t find one look in the mirror. If you’re reading this I may well not know you, but I wish you well because many strangers are friends we have not met. If you need some light then I offer an earlier post I wrote, Inspirational Songs .
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 )
May this contempt;
This contempt of parliament
And more, this contempt
Of democratic procedure,
This contempt of our country,
A United Kingdom; a continent,
Of all here now and here before;
This contempt of everything built
To encourage, protect and ensure
A relative peace taken for granted
We mostly enjoy with neighbours
On nearby shores;
This contempt of the health service
Founded after and because
Of the aftermath of two world wars,
This contempt of millions of workers
Who strive all hours but can’t afford homes;
Struggling parents, low-income earners
Sold lies or made into scapegoats,
Contempt of employees and entrepreneurs,
Including those
Who pay tax but cannot vote;
Those hated, spited as foreigners
And usurpers, even though
Money is not stolen by migrants,
It is the powerful few
Who guard the greatest percent
Of almost every nation’s revenue
And it’s clear most of them
Have not got the smallest clue
Or else were never taught
What duty or honour meant,
Those who place risk over value,
Those who do not know
That integrity, as well as a virtue,
Is now an economic and social essential,
Yes, it is contempt of this; contempt,
Forgetting foodbank ques,
Front bench MPs attempt
To push and bully through
A defective Brexit agreement
Whilst concealing the torch of truth
That our Attorney General lent;
It is this contempt of parliament;
And thus, contempt of the people
By leading officials in our government
Who would, it seems, mislead us all
In not providing the full legal document
Detailing all actual and potential pitfalls,
It’s disrespect, historic and inexcusable,
It is such contempt
That sets a mine beneath Big Ben,
Such deceptions are time ill spent
In arrogance, in acts
Against its citizens
By withholding facts
From those elected to represent,
Eight hundred years ago
They drew up a democratic template,
Adding layers along the road;
The foundation of a constitution
But one without a code,
One we have erected our rights upon,
One we’ve seen expand, sow, steal, erode,
Across times, under a mass of hands,
Now, time ticks like a bomb about to explode,
Shattering the security of millions,
During the aeon in which the clock tower stands
Have we ever known contempt like this?
MPs from six parties have raised the alarm
Because this goes beyond party politics,
Beyond any rebellion chief-whips could calm,
MPs being strong-armed with a fait accompli,
Denied the agreed legal information,
This contempt, this duplicity, this deceit
Would make not only any EU negotiation
A total mockery, it achieves the feet
Of ridiculing democratic and diplomatic relations,
Three times in an hour the proposed deal met defeat,
And so, amidst the conceit, disorder and disrespect
A seed on the winds of consternation;
A rebellion against the corruption of condescension
As the threads of democracy held on
Despite the government taking contempt
To an unprecedented dimension
In the debates of what makes Britain,
And Big Ben beats on,
And one day this too will be written;
The racism of some won’t be hidden;
The blinkeredness, short-termism,
Fear, isolationism that makes us alien
To each other and ourselves,
The panic buys, the empty shelves
Will fill tomorrow’s archives,
But the story is not yet finished
Our nation’s future can survive
As long as influencers don’t forget
The final draft is not complete,
What will historians ascertain
About this world-shifting week?
If we do not bow to contempt
That confuses authoritarian
With authoritative –
If principles don’t break under the strain
Of the rigid and didactic,
Almost half we voters voted to remain
And the sane who didn’t
Still did not vote for this.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Tax without representation equals tyranny;
This was a grievance in the seventeen-sixties
Across thirteen American Colonies
Whose governance came from across seas,
Remote, unresponsive to necessities
They could not heed, and so cried liberty,
For to pay yet be muzzled is to suffer cruelty,
This became a seed of the revolution;
For tax must be money taken from citizens
For the betterment of community and nation
Not a cyphering or selective elevation
Of one group requiring others’ humiliation,
To take taxes from persons with zero say
In how their money’s used is autocracy;
An absolutism keeping justice at bay
Until people cried, “We won’t pay
To have our voice or home taken away,
We won’t subsidise being silenced.”
Later, in another century, women cried this too;
Or at least the wealthy, unmarried or widowed
Women with means, numbering only a few,
Less than four decades since wedded women knew
The right to own any property or money; to accrue
Or keep inheritance or wages, never mind a view,
But although they had no say in how it was spent
They were legally bound to pay tax to a Parliament,
That might as well have been on another continent
For how much it heard, saw or represented them
Or any women, for it was a male ego Bastian
That sought to retain unilateral male dominance,
Where men owned wives’ bodies, owned children,
Where women’s sole fortune was a kind man,
Where the death of a cruel one was petty treason,
Where women were thought to have no sense or reason,
Those times are (mostly) gone,
In many but not all ways
We have moved on,
In others the patterns replay
On and on and on,
And yet always there is disenfranchisement;
Subjugation, marginalisation recurrent
For those who cannot vote for their government
But must pay taxes, amongst these are migrants
Who work and pay their way yet are censured
And scapegoated, all successes thrice earned
In economic downturn, less guarded by laws,
My thinking friends, take into consideration
Those with no vote still subject to taxation;
For those with no parliamentary representation
Are those who suffer the worst discrimination;
For policies are built for those who may elect
And those most represented get most respect,
So, when the powerful blame migrants again
Know it’s because politicians can cast blame
And shame on those with other national origins
Because at election time MPs only have to win
The approval of born or chosen British citizens,
It is the same with young people
Who may have sex, go into battle,
Be taxed, labour, work and toil
Years before their opinion counts at all
To those who’d label them criminal,
Tax but no vote from age sixteen
Then under-represented and side-lined
By those who chose to demean,
If you are white, male, heterosexual,
Born here, still fully abled,
Born well off, aligned to the sex assigned
At birth and forty or more
Then you are the ones they write policies for,
And, although this status quo is challenged
The more we are of this, the more we are privileged,
The more our likeness is, in Westminster, reflected,
The more our needs and interests are respected
And the more our right to thrive is protected,
But those who cannot elect or be elected
Still pay into the pot,
But when the going gets tough they’re neglected,
Their contribution denied, rights overlooked,
I look at anti-migrant rhetoric
Recalling slogans of regulators and suffragists,
All people just trying to live
Without being banished, alienated
Or slated for taking when they give,
The lies about them are practiced,
Expected, accepted, authoritative,
To those who believe them I ask them to think
About present and historic links
Between those who aren’t permitted a vote
And those in society who are scorned the most,
Because it is not democracy,
At times it smacks of tyranny,
It opens the gate to mockery,
Hate crimes, partiality, bigotry
And is a smoke screen shielding plutocracy;
A version of this played out in ancient Greece,
And to those who say it’s always been like this
I’d say we create more damage when we believe
Authorities when they accuse voteless minorities
And under-represented communities,
It is divide and rule policy based on demography,
Truth is more complex and harder to retrieve
When a nation enables its leaders to deceive
Then buys the bullshit on Brexit and votes ‘leave’.
Breakers tall, rollers grave,
Catch you a living on the wave
They said another owns the sea
But the brine has her own currency,
No matter the rule, the plan or crown
This is the lore of the coastal town,
For those who would re-map the drink
Know she’ll not yield to paper or ink,
But yet, think on docks and fisheries
Too often bought to the brink,
Upon these rocks, communities;
It is these we worry may sink,
Do not sing -white horses’ lullabies
To those who know a mermaid’s ditty,
Beware closed ports and borderlines
Where swirling shoals have authority.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
For my beloved Cornwall & Devon and all the United Kingdom’s coastal towns. It is fair to say many already feel overlooked by the UK and other governments’ dealings at home and overseas on behalf of the fisheries. Brexit will create further challenges for many of these communities who depend on trading between countries through open ports, busy docks, and accessible waters.
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
Hi All,
Hope you’re keeping warm and safe. This post is a bit different to my others. I wanted to share some of the songs and artists that keep me going. One of my earlier posts; Brexit Playlist is a poem that references some of the music I listen to when I feel angry about what is happening in the UK and around the world. This collection is different – only uplifting melodies and songs of hope and unity. It makes me happy to think it might put a smile on some of your faces. There are links to videos on YouTube. So, here goes:
Win Or Lose, Sink Or Swim
One Thing Is Certain We’ll Never Give In
Side By Side, Hand In Hand
We All Stand Together
Play The Game, Fight The Fight
But What’s The Point On A Beautiful Night?
Arm In Arm, Hand In Hand
We All Stand Together
Keeping Us Warm In The Night
La La La La
Walk In The Night
You’ll Get It Right
Win Or Lose, Sink Or Swim
One Thing Is Certain We’ll Never Give In
Side By Side, Hand In Hand
We All Stand Together.
8am,
The grieving wind
And sirens in the air,
An icy 18th of December,
The future forecast
Still nebulous; unclear
As destitution stings
The atmosphere
And each gust calls
Like an anguished mother,
Where do we go from here?
Then, through the thin walls,
The chimes of a child’s laughter
And my heart hurdles to my throat
In that breath and beat of hope.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
We are living in dark times
but know this,
half the nation is by your side.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
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
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
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 48% 