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
Nay!
Shout your loud words
Break life’s chains
Stop!
Discrimination
Cronyism
Scream louder your words
Smash!
That fucking glass ceiling.
Carol Robson 2015.

Hometown by Carol Robson


Hometown

This poem is about my hometown Rotherham.

HOMETOWN

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,
forever,
My Hometown.
©Carol Robson 2015

Bad Dreams by Carol Robson.


This poem is from my revised/edited 2nd edition poetry collection Words of Darkness and Light.

BAD DREAMS

Childhood, special time,
Joyous and carefree –
Free as a butterfly
Spreading your wings.

Spring and summer delights:
You run, dance and skip
Through the fields; flowers too –
Sitting by the stream, carefree.

You find a special friend –
They are kind –
You meet by the stream
Again! Again! Still carefree.

Carefree no longer:
You do not run, dance and skip
Through the fields and flowers.
Stream is a bad place.

Not a special friend!
You didn’t want this.
Frightened! You never go out –
Frightened to tell.

Crying, bad dreams, so real –
You withdraw.
Where have you gone?
Silence consumes.

Bad dreams follow you.
In time you are here –
Not the same, no longer carefree.
Evil! Took something away.

Fields, flowers, stream of yesteryear
Pushed into deep dark place:
Bad dreams, bad memories
Still manage to emerge.

You never told.
You think you coped
So why do you still
Have bad dreams?

Copyright: Carol Robson 2014

Born This Way by Carol Robson


Born This Way.

The homophobes rally
governments and religions
cultures and societies
the elite
the ignoramus
and of course
the misanthropes.

Attacked by the homophobes
condemned by the abusers
priming the vulnerable
or do not accept
their own sexuality
yet continue
to live and pray
in their religious
patriarchal society
while wearing frocks
and a leader
with a penchant
for red shoes
who orders
don’t do as I do
but as I say
and they tell me
because I’m gay
that I’m destined
for eternal damnation.

Government’s corrupted
living with corruption
self-serving beliefs
lining their pockets
screwing the vulnerable.
I’m gay
and they reckon
I’m the one
who is “Bent”

Understanding
Acceptance
we are real
we won’t go away
we don’t corrupt
we are not a lifestyle
we were born this way.

© Carol Robson 2014

 

Words of Darkness and Light (reader review)


Words of Darkness and Light (reader review) posted on Facebook.

book review

Published by Thynks Publications

Lest We Forget by Carol Robson.


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.

Troubled With A Gun by Carol Robson.


Troubled With a Gun

They have a gun
shall they have fun?
Pop-pop, pop-pop
here comes the strop.

Disillusioned,
disturbed teen,
time to be mean
an outsider driven by pain
going down the drain.

Spat on, put down,
shunned.
Parents – peers
will be gunned.
Notice me!
my hatred fuelled campaign.

Who takes blame?
Inflamed communities.
Media and Films,
the reason
an untimely hunting season.

Look within,
clues are there,
out of childhood,
without care
lack of love
no affection
no one listened.
Questions asked,
the day,
bullets glistened.

Clock runs its course
cops arrive,
now in force
bearing witness,
blood stained hellhole.
Their final act,
ends life,
another troubled soul
gone,
no answers.

© Carol Robson 2014

I’m Back by Carol Robson


I’M BACK.

A long day
of lesser function.
cloth eared
muffled sounds
running on adrenalin.
Coffee and tablets
the diet of function
working in a cloud,
dysfunctional,
out of sorts
out of place.
Makes the effort
cracks appear
dysfunctional cloud
heavy weather day
wanes to brightness
soul and spirit
shines through,
perseverance,
I’m back.


Copyright: Carol Robson 2014

Always Remembered by Carol Robson


Always Remembered

I could have never imagined
or even dreamed,
that this life
would turn out so!
Happiness and joy
can be measured
in wealth and riches,
of love and friendship
of family and friends.

Those who started
my amazing journey
with me,
many who joined it
along the way, sharing,
making my life richer
that led to fulfillment,
of a deeper happiness
in a time and place
that is my Nirvana.

Those who,
journeyed with me,
stayed with me,
supported me,
loved me
for being me.
Always remembered

©Carol Robson 2014