Issue 101 / July 2019

ARTISTIC
LICENCE
As part of our continuing series focusing on the region’s wordsmiths, we’ve
curated a selection of work from some regulars on the city’s poetry scene.
Andy McGlinchey
Celestine
I’ll let you in on a secret
An astronaut floated down to me last night
They all fell at once, without a word
And I was doing pretty fine without her
But then I woke, to see myself gazing back through reflection
I helped her fix her helmet,
After a while she helped me with a few things
She fixed the painting in my wall and made it crooked again
Made me fresh wax gave me Valium and skunk rats,
And we played with the stars, they were ours
Though she never spoke a word of her Heavenly birth
A devilish curse but only at first
Later we didn’t even need to speak we knew each other’s taints and
flukes, even though she never let me see her beneath the suit
Others came and they never knew; all wore the same suit
White helmet and black boots
though you couldn’t see through
You could always tell when her eyes saw the real you
Amina Atiq
Sir, I speak Scouse
My gran-dad arrived on a boat to a strange land,
rested on her port, drank water from her Mersey –
greeted by her Liver birds – they lent out their
wings and here, he opened his corner shop on Lawrence Road –
selling broken biscuits for half a penny. Here, he settled
where dreams are carved and never forgotten.
She is not New York where dreams are wonders.
She is a promise never broken and secrets are cross
my heart and swear down to never tell a soul.
She is the love letters found at the bottom of the riverstories
floating to her waves – voices echoing her painhappiness
of those who passed by and those who stayed.
The Irish, Afro-Caribbean, the Chinese, the Yemenis,
Somalis, the Greeks – her beauty is her diversity.
She has a face that is hard to forget. Maybe not the
prettiest of them all but the most friendliest you’ll find.
She is the most down-to-earth bird you’ll ever find,
enough to make your heart go by.
Her stubbornness is her resilience, reds or bluesshe
never gives up, she never walks alone – wounded
or scarred, she picks you up too – that’s her charm.
She is Hope Street, hoping for a better tomorrow and when
The broken-hearted people living in the world would agree/
There will be an answer, let it be, let it be…
What makes her whole, is the peoples voice because Sir,
I speak Scouse, fire from my stomach – love and kindness
from my heart – she taught me to Stand up, Stand up, Speak up-
Speak up be Anything, Anything.
My city is my home and my home is my city.
She is perfect and her name is Liverpool.
Balcony
Featured in ROOT-ed zine’s Arrival City issue
Bluboy (@thisisbluboy)
Untitled
They said don’t dream big! Don’t dream grand!
Our parents said work twice as hard to get half as far
So we work four times as much keeping our feet to the ground while
we reach for the stars
But even if we succeed you won’t let us be!
Trapped! With your assumptions, even if we break through that glass
ceiling. Or if we beat the odds Because we’ll still be considered the
red and brown eyed beans, never seen as the same green peas in a
pod.
Strength of our women over romanticised, because they’re still
standing because it’s an understatement to say they’ve been through
a lot!
But they never stay down they reach for the top! But we never let em
have a couple moments weakness.
Small things everyday that you face, from having to stand up for
yourself on both sides!
Practically at all times, being fetishised in your daily lives.
“I’ve got a thing for black chicks”
“Black women have always been a fetish of mine”
Sometimes even get it from one of us like:
“You’re pretty for a dark skin girl”
Or
“I like lighties”
But for years you’ve been the backbone of the community!
So we gotta teach our kids they’re already dripping they can shine
without jewellery.
There I go again romanticising the strength of black women.
But the press want to paint a picture a black man’s a strapped villain!
Truth be told we’re full of beautiful spirits, brilliance and excellence.
Inventive, innovative.
Is that why they love to appropriate us?
Or see us as taste-makers is that why you copy our slang kid and
adopt it as a language?
Copy our sense of fashion from the hats to the kicks.
You wanna be like us till it comes to our trials and tribulations.
But you’ll never face our daily situations.
I feel like I shouldn’t even have to say that because it’s obvious.
People assume we’re violent because we have no choice but to be
warriors!
As we fight small & big battles daily.
Try and call out someone for micro aggressions then we’re labelled
as crazy.
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