Debris by Carol Robson (Video)



Debris is about a woman who is homeless, on the streets through drug and alcohol addiction.
Performed at St Helens Central Library June 26th when I was the support act for JB Barrington
Video courtesy of John Richards
Debris Copyright Carol Robson 2015

Dance of Good and Evil by Carol Robson



Uncommon sense breaks the frailness;
a mind disorganised, yet still not broken.
Good, light thoughts; evil, dark thoughts,
like bed-fellows – side by side.

A constant battle of wills:
good and evil challenging
like a passionate circling dance –
Tarantellas courting each other.

Your behaviours challenged by desires;
your free will attracts the evil,
your morality fights to transcend this,
your virtues fight for spiritual purity.

In time you fight your final battle,
the final dance of light and dark,
the brightness of your soul
rejecting the deep darkness of your mind.

You’re now here in a good place –
at least, until you’re asked for another dance.

Carol Robson 2014

(Page 16 Words of Darkness and Light)

£6.99p plus p&p I will sign if requested

£6.99p plus p&p
I will sign if requested

Apathetic Voter by Carol Robson


Apathetic Voter

Apathetic Voter

Apathetic Voter

Things will never change
If you don’t get your arse in gear
Apathy is your life’s trait
Thinking Yes! I’m alright mate.
Continuous fucking moaning
Belching from your mouth
This country’s going to the dogs
That is your usual spout.
Do something, get off your arse and vote.

Yet! you’re the public house transmission
Or living room politician
Always giving it large
To anyone who’ll listen
You’re in your face utter barrage
Fucking hell, don’t become a Farrage
Do something, get off your arse and vote

Don’t be the non-voter
Become the opinion poll floater
Public house transmission
Living room politician
Stop your fucking moaning
Just do your frigging voting
©Carol Robson 2015

Smash That Glass Ceiling.


Speak your loud words
Break your chains
Shout your loud words
Break life’s chains
Scream louder your words
That fucking glass ceiling.
Carol Robson 2015.

Hometown by Carol Robson



This poem is about my hometown Rotherham.


Walking through the centre
my hometown,
a warm night, Saturday night.
Minster clock shines ten,
police sirens now a distant fade,
earlier, mouthy drunks
with EDL language
removed from the pub,
that I just left.

Yet! Silence runs through
to distant voices
standing on
smokey pub pavements,
town centre,
Saturday night.

Barren concrete,
no shadowy figures
for cameras to watch,
empty benches,
now the resting place
for the lone beer can
of a previous tenant.

Still devoid,
no town square voices
as I wait for tumbleweed
to roll in from side-streets
to converge
in the square
of disillusioned hopes,
unfulfilled dreams
of Jamie Oliver,
or even Mary Portas,
in this nightly ghost town,
where all have left.
Yet! It will be,
My Hometown.
©Carol Robson 2015

My Valentine Bad Luck by Carol Robson.


(This is a revised version of a poem I wrote a few years back for an anti-valentine poetry slam)

My Valentine Bad Luck

Valentine’s day,
just another Hallmark day,
commercial hype to pluck your pockets.
Chaucers fault, with his love birds,
verse after verse cards
finger down throat words.

I’ve loved and lost all year round
Valentine’s day
doesn’t make it anymore special
A lover can fuck it up, on any day,
it happens to us all, straight or gay.

Valentine gifts arrive in different ways
Yet! Do they really know you?
Sometimes so clueless,
with chocs or other delicacies.
I’m on a bloody diet,
or they set off, my fucking allergies.

Then the one, who always buys flowers,
every significant date, a dozen of the best
Time to tell them, you really hate the rose,
especially if they get on one knee,
about to propose.

Once I received the perfect Valentine gift,
I thought.
Perfect gift, the most beautiful rabbit
Valentine bad luck, was to continue,
the rabbit died, went out like a light.
Suddenly realised, batteries included,
were really Shite.

If like me you’re on your own,
do spare a thought,
for those in love
For you still have choice and freewill.
Just grow old disgracefully,
before it all goes, downhill.
© Carol Robson 2015

NHS and A&E rant and my poem Lest We Forget by Carol Robson.


We keep hearing on the news about NHS and A&E crisis, no beds available, older people taking beds up because they are perhaps more at risk to seasonable illness (chest infections etc) let’s blame an easy target again.
Older people the media say are tying up beds because care packages are slow in being organised for them at home, so again blame occupational therapists and social services. It doesn’t seem too long ago when the media talked about bed blocking and there were going to be fines for social services department who caused this, ‘bed blocking’. So lets stop demonising old people and people whose job it is to set up care packages….The people who need demonising, that have caused this situation within the NHS, local authority adult social care offices, austerity cutbacks etc, kill off of a few more older people, are this Fucking Government ‪#‎justsaying‬ ‪#‎mythoughts‬

Lest We Forget

This weary darkness of days,
as they trudge their weary limbs
from room to room, in decay.
Devoid of natural light,
loneliness and isolation
coldness of older peoples plight,
lest we forget, their degradation.

©Carol Robson 2014.