The Lynching Tree

I wrote this poem over nine years ago, after listening to an interview with Doreen Bishop, who I can now call a personal friend of mine.  Doreen Bishop is the Mother of Ricky Bishop who mysteriously died after being arrested by the Police at Brixton Station.  I remember hearing of the story when it was first reported, it stuck in my mind as strange.  Ricky was a passenger in a car driving through Brixton, it would seem the area they was driving in was near to a known Crack House, this is almost laughable because ten years ago there seemed to be few places you could go within Brixton and not stumble across some Crack house, Druggy hangout or what not.  

Well it would seem the Police had cause to pull the car over as a crack pipe had been spotted on the floor of the car.  Ricky was subsequently arrested taken to the Brixton Police station.  .........  Hours later he was rushed to Kings College hospital where he waited to be seen he died before receiving treatment for his alleged overdose.  The Police reported that he had swallowed his stash of drugs which was allegedly in the cavities of his mouth.  (There after Police in Brixton would often report about the perils of doing a sweep of suspected drug dealers mouths)

There are gaps that I cannot fill in, I have attended many court hearings, the Coroner's court verdict of a Narrative of Accidental Death although this was not exhausted.???

They is also the case of Roger Sylvester, who also died in Police custody.  This case was taken to the high court, the family were successful in getting a verdict of .of Unlawful Killing which needless to say was quickly overturned by the High Court.

Deaths in Custody a sad phenomenon  predominantly within the Black Community.  I have attended several hearings what always hits me is the excessive force that the Police determine is necessary at that time to arrest/detain the suspect.  In the case of Roger Sylvester it was reported that 8 offices held him down, one as I understand sitting on his legs, which is the longest artery in the body, so once this supply has been cut off for a significant amount of time, this inevitably causes serious complications ( No I am not a doctor).  

The Lynching Tree 

Down Brixton Way

Have you seen the lynching tree down Brixton way?

It’s the tree outside the killing house

Where many have lost their lives to date

The tree is legendary it has become symbolic

Have you seen the lynching tree down Brixton way?

I’ve seen it there today

The leafs don’t blow in the breeze

They lay laden with the blood of the deceased

Have you seen the Lynching Tree down Brixton Way?

We walk passed immune to the stench

Of another life laying in the trench

We are at war and our men are being taken in their

Tens and thousand millions more

Have you seen the Lynching Tree down Brixton Way?

I’ve seen it, I am here to settle the score

You take what is mine I no longer mourn

I am a mother I am speaking of all African Sons and daughters

One by one they are being led to the slaughter

Have you seen the Lynching Tree down Brixton Way?

Have you seen the lynching tree down Brixton way?

Have you seen the lynching tree down Brixton way?

Freudian Slips

They say much of psychology is based on Sigmund Freud’s findings, they also say he had deep rooted psychological problems, which stemmed from his relationship he had with his Mother.

I have a problem when people blame a slip of the tongue as nothing.  I believe everything that anyone says is what they intended to say.  Sometimes people just don't have the balls to stand behind what they have said, and want some way to desperately take it back, I am here to tell you it is not possible to un-utter something.

When people are intoxicated or angry , this is where we often hear the truth, sometimes for the first time.  The truth will set you free.  Initially the recipient would be a little shocked, but in time they will get over it, maybe even grow to respect you either way it’s out there and the universe is dealing with it.

Posted FB 30/3/13

# 57 Freudian Slip

What you do

Is always noted

Makes an entry

In the inventory

All your thoughts

Are conceived

What you speak

That's what you believe

Don't tell me about no freuduian slip

What comes out is an intentional hit

Life as a Worm

What if this was it

We go through life picking up aspects of various philosophies, at the moment a lot of the philosophy we quote from come from the East.  I remember Feng Shui everything you did had to be governed by the rules of Feng Shui.  Is that philosophy or just how to organise your home and get rid of clutter.  I remember it relied on lots of mirrors, avoiding water and a lot of de cluttering.  which can only be a good thing.

“My philosophy is that not only are you responsible for your life, but doing the best at this moment puts you in the best place for the next moment” - Oprah Winfrey#

#55 What If This Was It

What if this was it

No coming back as a worm

This one life was the gift

If this is it

Don't you want to  get it right

Get involved in doing good

No wasted times on pointless fights

Get up out the bed

Face this day square in the face

Say today I am going to make a difference

I have been chosen to take part in this race

State “I have arrived!”

I am jostling for first place

Writers Block

It happened.  I hoped it wouldn’t, it was inevitable, after posting 53 original poems 3 were written before I set this challenge for myself.

Recently a few people who have visited my blog, I believe they are impressed with some of the poems,  The general concern is how can I keep it up?  I am confident I can upload 1 poem a day.  I have a backlog of over 100 poems which means I am confident, I  will be able to post a poem a day for  the next 310 days.  so watch this space

I have been fortunate whereby every day by about 12pm i have written at least one poem.  Today well, was a very relaxing day, I had a day off and although a few lines came to me nothing that sounded like a complete poem.  

I know when something is going to develop into a poem.  Like my first poem which I planned to perform at Armaghetto at the Fridge back there in January 1999.  

I remember whenever I got in my car, which was significant to the person  who I had allowed to break my heart.  Whenever I got behind the wheel lines, stanses phrases just kept coming to me.  after a few weeks I suddenly I decided to write it down as it was almost like being haunted, once I put it to paper it felt like an exorcism.  That and the car got stolen 6 months on, which defintely prevented me pondering, reminiscing of this particular person.  Now there’s a reason not to go out with your MECHANIC!

The poem I posted today on FB 27/03/13

#54 This Will Have to do

I need to write a poem

I don't know where to start

Do I write something fictional?

Or maybe something from the heart

I look around for inspiration

Nothing can I find

I look over the breakfast table

Still can't find a rhyme

Unfortunately I don't have a Muse

He looks at me blankly

Now I've made him confused

I cut him off in mid sentence

Something is coming through

I can write these thoughts down

This poem will have to do!

Late!!!

Tick tock, the sound of a clock, why do we have a problem with time keeping.  We have endless devices displaying the time, we have even more gadgets designed to save us time, particularly in the morning.  yet we have the audacity to turn up late.

Once you have arrived somewhere late, you are telling that person or organisation, I really don’t care about you and your rules.

Being late is rude and arrogant, you are basically saying ‘Wait for me’ Whatever I am doing is more important than being on time.

Some people speak of different time zones, they make references to JMT Jamaican Mean Time, AFT African Meantime oh yes lets not forget Black Man’s Time.  Sorry to tell everywhere your time is defined by the area you reside in not by your cultural background.  If we really were going by Jamaican Time, we could expect people to turn up 5 hours lat.

I have been late sometime, it often starts from the night before, where I haven’t got to bed on time, wake up feeling tiered, (I hit snooze a few times ) wake up 25 minutes later then I am scheduled to do and of course I am running late and I spend the day trying to make up the time.  I am sad to say it is not possible to gain the loss time!

#43 Late Again

Late for work again

Nothing other than death

Is a suitable excuse

Whatever you say is just a ruse

When it comes to redundancies

You will be the one they cut loose

You walk in nonchalant

As if it doesn’t matter

Everyone stops their chatter

Pause momentarily to check

An imaginary clock

It’s all been noted

The time you trotted up

So you try to explain

What’s that you say?

The bus, the plane, the train

The person has stopped listening

It doesn’t matter what you say

What’s going around in their brain

This person is a chalaton

A Liar, unreliable

Definitely not a team player

You spend the day

working extra hard

Even skipping lunch

You make sure you are the

Last one to leave

Hoping everyone will forget

The boss you are trying to appease

Maybe if you could turn back time

What would you do differently

Where to begin on the list? 

Just simply get to work on time

Then the Baby said....

As a writer I enjoy when I can give those who don’t have a voice an opportunity to come to life in a poem.  We have an ongoing family joke about things that talk that should not.  I often find myself reminding my 8 year old, to be weary of talking food, particularly fruit.  I recently was confessing my love for pink grapefruit .I adore pink grapefruit even above Mangoes and pineapple anyhow.  My daughter swiftly took the pink grapefruit and an orange put them together got down on one knee  and proposed, it was the best offer I had that day, I was tempted to say yes.

Now this poem is much more important than talking fruit.  this is the voice of an abandoned child.  The casualty of a broken home.

Posted on FB 10/03/13

#37 How Could You Leave Me?

How could you leave Me?

You didn't even take the time out to get to know me

How terrible could I be?

When half your DNA runs through me

What could I have done ?

That was so bad

I am confused

You had your fun

I am the one that you have cut loose

I need you now

I know I am small

You are so big

I understand you maybe unsure

How to pick me up

Go ahead I won't break

Hold me, rock me, love me

Until my little heart stops this ache

I need you now

I need you later

Can't you see mums just fronting

She can't do it on her own

If it was the other way around

I would never leave / abandon you

I would hold you, rock you, love you

Till all the lies doubt and confusion

Become truths

Making up Should be Private

I guess you figured it out, I travel a lot on London Underground trains, on my way to work and during my day.  So I have a lot of time to observe certain things, and behaviour.  My pet hate I know I am not alone Women Putting on Makeup particularly in the morning.

When I was younger I guess the fascination was more of “how do you do that?” now it’s more “Why do you do that?”

I have seen some transformations but my personal view is ‘O Natural’ all the way.

This poem was posted on fb 13/03/13

#40 Making up on the Train

She opened her magician bag of tricks

Right before us she would transform

Into some sort of Hot Chick

First she laid the foundation

It would seem she was a woman with a lot of imperfections

She applied it gently filling all the cracks

Not sure why hasn't she heard 'Black don't crack'

She made her eyes up with pencil liner, 

Mascara and some powder for her brow

Surely she had finished

What was she planning to do now?

Rouge, bronzer.

We sat stared and wondered

Then she applied some lippy

Then she was finished in a jiffy

Put on her gloves and collected the metros

Well that was a surprise

It's not what you do

It's how you look for the show

Libraries What's That?

The situation across many of the Boroughs are that many of the libraries are being closed.  Yes we do have many other means of reading information.  I still feel there is a need for them, it’s a place where the community of all ages can get together and share their love of books. I use to live near Streatham Library, they had a wonderful Mothers and Toddler club the demand for it was huge, it meant getting up early and getting the little one ready. This was a challenge but it was always worth it.

posted fb 14/03/13

#41 Libraries Outlawed

Libraries are where books live

Where late at night

They run around and consult

They discuss their titles

They discuss their middles

Discuss their ends

Discuss there twist

Sit down with friends

They've even started a book club

Where they review the people who come in

The very small with their sticky hands

The one that have no idea

What a book is and why they are here

Some put it in there mouth

I guess they want to digest what it is they are reading about

So now the proposal is going around

These libraries are being outlawed

Seized,destroyed, shut down

wherever they are found

As if books was an illicit drug

We must be all addicts coz it makes me feel sick

Knowing what they have planned

It is a place where minds are transformed

So now the libraries are under threat

If we don't do something now

This we will live to regret

The Joy of Dancing

I spent Thursday evening at dance Festival organised by the local primary schools in Havering.  It was divided in two halfs, so we had to endure a lot of repetition.  I waited for my daughter’s school to come on all though I am sure I had been treated to the whole routine several times in the kitchen.

The standard throughout was much the same (which was high).  Then a group of children came on, we noticed that there were a few more boys and in comparison to the other groups they were smaller.  Also the wonderful helpers stayed on stage throughout to work and encourage two boys who were finding just being on stage very challenging.  

After a while we understood, this particular group of children were from a Special Needs School, I am glad they didn’t introduce them as this.  Their contribution, enthusiasm and general performance was inspiring and enjoyable.  

#50 I am a Believer

The dance festival went on and on

They bopped along to Lion King

Elvis, Mama Mia, Moulin Rouge

Now that was just wrong

Everyone tried their very best

To stay in time and remember all the steps

Then a group came on all shapes and sizes

Two girls in green tutus they were full of surprises

We watched and watched as two boys

Just gazed upwards to the stars

The helpers stayed on stage

They needed to assist

As some stood still others gyrated and twist

They were all over the place

One boy we thought would never get his groove

As the song came to an end

He suddenly  began to move

First a few little steps then a big jump

The chorus line sang out

“I am a believer!”

This is true

I am a believer

I am a believer in you

He dance and danced

I felt the tears

I cried as per usual, as I normally do

When I see a production of

A dream come true

I am believer

We can make a difference

Some read, some write and dance too.

Dot Cotton My Idle in Love

This poem was posted on Valentines day.  I wanted to talk about real love.  Not the whisk you of your feet love, which gets so much publicity.  How about the quiet love which when you encounter it is truly magical.  This is what happened for Dot in Eastenders (I know she's a fictional character).  Dot spent many years on the square with no love interest, she had an awful husband and a wicked son.  No one to lookout for her and love her, then Jim Branning came along and it was magical.  I would joke there is hope for me yet.

Have I met my Jim Branning????

#14 Everlasting Love

How could it happen?

At my age I should know better

You were not my first love,

I pray you will be my last.

As I entered a new stage

Scared to love after all that had been

Many years standing waiting at Loves door

I am like a trapped animal

I have been caught in this Love cage

They say it was wrong

We say it’s so right  

As we made love through the night

Now time has past

Where are all those people?

Who said it would never last

We have proved them wrong

As we sit on this verandah watching the sun go down

Humming our own love song

The children are all grown and flown the nest

We’ve entered quieter times

I have to confess I prefer this best

You still make me smile

Even though my teeth remain in a glass

During the night

And when I need to eat

You were my toy boy

You are now the one that keeps me alive

Me at 90 you at 85

Occasionally I catch you staring and smiling at me

Not sure if it’s the cataracts I must look a mess

Surely you are tired of looking at this weathered face

My hair is thinning

Whatever I do it looks a frightful mess

Even though time has moved on

I am grateful for the times we had

Some rocky some not so bad

But we made it

Here we are

Memory slipping

Eyesight failing

Some things

I hear some I just assume

Every day seems to bring a new complaint

It doesn’t matter

As we have each other

I care for you dearly

I now know you have been sent from above

After all these years

You are still my everlasting love

The Pressure of Shopping

This Poem was posted 17th February, I thought I would quickly rush into Next and buy something.  I work so near Westfield Shopping centre, whenever, I am at a loose end,  everyone's suggestion is to go shopping.  How sexsist because I am a Woman I must enjoy shopping.  I find it laborious  and a chore.  I find the clothing unimaginative, expensive and often of poor quality ( My father was a tailor ) so the first thing I do with any item is feel the quality of the material.  For example I recently purchased a grey tweed mens jacket 100% Wool, it is fantastic, it keeps me  really warm.  Also paid £14 yes £14 of course it was at  charity shop, I was looking for a waistcoat and I came across it.  Now thats quality, thats a bargain and its for a good cause.

My daughter begrudgingly agreed it was nice although she thought I could Gok Wan it !?  Yes add a large belt.





# 16 A Failure


"I feel such a failure!"
The girl in the next cubicle announced
I knew what she meant
She had tried on several items
Nothing fit right
Some were too big others were too tight
I was having a similar problem
I wanted to shout out
This blouse fits perfectly
But this deceit will have to stop
As this number is wrong
This is not my size
I haven’t come here, to be subjected to these lies
Where is the manager?
I would let him know
That his sizes are wrong
Whoever is writing out these labels
Immediately they will have to go
This cannot enter my home
With its lying tag
So I put the things back on the shelf
My father was a tailor
How difficult can it be?
I am sure I can whip up something myself