You have given me power you should.
I shall be both beautiful an’ good.
Look my face when cock crow,
I am very pleasing to you.
Her prophecy came to pass
and the marriage consummated in bliss …
So she married a rapist
but he learnt his lesson.
May God give us young submissive husband!
You like my headtie?
It’s de latest fashion.
They sell like hot cake on Victoria Island.
Fifty pounds.
I give you discount ’cause I like your smile.
The quality is very good.
If I take off more I will not make profit
an’ I travel to Lagos nex’ week.
Make it my lucky day.
Please, I beg you!
The Devil in Cardiff
Huw Fryer Jones
D’ya hear Robbo got sent down again?
When a snitch gets sent down
what chance for the rest of us, eh?
Allowed one call and he calls me,
the div. I ses, Where are ya? He ses,
Hell! No signal down ’ere. Can’t bloody text!
I ses, What you doing down there, moron?
Ses he met a man in the Dragon,
asks him what he does and Robbo
ses he’s a bailiff, helluva sly, Robbo.
Man ses he’s a bailiff too, for his sins,
an’ Robbo gets the bevvies in.
Talk breaking, entering, weapons,
summonses, like, repossessions.
Sell his nain for a pint, Robbo.
Pint of bitter for me … Robbery
but he got a suspended … So they’re playing pool
an’ man says he’s not a bailiff at all
he’s the Devil Incarnate!
Robbo ses, I was the devil in Cardiff
meself last weekend. Broke the ASBO,
banned from South Wales, me … Robbo,
Robert Owen. They shake hands like
they’re arm wrestling an’ Robbo winks.
Ses he’s got a job on the side selling
dope to the cops, raking it in.
Thick as thieves, they were. Ta!
Closing time, there’s a lad in a Lada,
won’t start. He’s revving it hoarse,
cursing it to hell. Freezing cold, it was.
Car’s choking like an old bag
then comes back to life. Thank God, ses the lad,
drives off. Robbo laughs, If you’re the Devil
you shoulda taken the car, you div,
but the Devil ses no, he only takes what’s his
when the curse means business,
none of your half-baked.
Robbo ses he’ll teach him the tricks of the trade.
They’re well out of town now
an’ Robbo stops at this bungalow,
peeling paint, leaky roof,
knocks on the door with his leather glove
and this old dear opens up, Oh, it’s you!
tries to slam the door but he pushes through.
She says, I owe nothing, I’m a poor, old woman.
But Robbo’s got this fake summons –
non-payment of a fine with interest.
Pay up or pay the price, he ses,
and the Devil’s laughing in his overcoat
like he just told an old joke.
Nothing on the shelf but a teapot
full of old coins. Robbo grabs it,
empties the coins on the carpet.
Mine, he says, To cover an old debt
I paid for you, on a street corner.
Helluva sly, Robbo. She says, You’re
wicked, Robert Owen, I only
knew one man, my late husband, Dai,
then starts speaking Welsh, like. Repent
or the Devil take your soul and the teapot ancient!
Robbo tells her where she can put
her repentance and the Devil bags him and the teapot
non-stop to Hell! Dying for a pint, he is.
Only serve tea down there, and bloody biscuits …
Bitter for me … He’ll be back here
in less than a month, though, bet you a fiver,
they’ll be beggin’ him to go.
Get an ASBO from Hell, Robbo.
Arse Dramatica
Geoff Sumner
Door-to-door salesmen? Scum!
I should know, use ta be one.
Me an’ this geezer John worked North London
where the Newtons is. Pensioners in semis,
read the Guardian, give to charities,
know the type? We was the bees knees
in bullshit. Gift of the gob.
Commission-only and we made a few bob
on the stain-free carpet job
but wasn’t enough. John had a plan.
Fake insurance, our first scam.
Made a few grand.
Then, NADA, for dumb people
who can’t act. John turned on the babble,
quote the Bible
from Eve to the ark
if it helped with the big ask.
Straight from the devil’s arse!
I leave him to it, go down the boozer.
He looks up Thomas, old geezer,
bedridden, East End miser,
cash-wadded mattress,
made masses,
John ‘knows’ the missus:
Morning gorgeous. How’s the old man?
She winks, Bent as a white van.
An’ John says, all deadpan,
Collecting for me charity, NADA.
National Academy for Dumb Actors.
Thomas, be our benefactor!
Sits on the end of the bed,
missus brings sliced meat, sliced bread,
Thomas shakes his head:
Fuck off!
I’ve given a grand to you and your ‘staff’.
Enough’s enough!
I’d scarper. Not John.
Knows how to turn it on
an’ the wife crosses her bacons.
Sounds like a good cause, luv!
Every line you could think of,
John pulls it off:
how they got to build new offices,
how it’s giving jobs to the jobless.
Load of old cobblers.
If you got no charity, Thomas, know what?
You’re nothing. Nada. Diddly Squat.
Now show us what ya got!
Plonks the form on the eiderdown,
Have a butcher’s at this. Come on,
sign your name in neon!
Thomas smiles, Alright, I’m smitten
but you know I don’t do nothin’ written.
Got somethin’ better I keep hidden.
He gestures to the cover, Put your arm
behind me, an’ John’s groping round his arse,
hoping for a windfall ‘for the arts’
when Thomas farts! Loud as a carthorse,
Share that with your workforce!
And John’s a whippet off a racecourse,
you won’t believe the stench!
Now he’s sitting on the pub bench
plotting revenge
while the whole pub’s trying to decide
how John’ll equally divide
that blast from the backside!
To this day, John’s pissed off
but you can’t argue with the pay-off.
He had it coming. End of.
STONE
I Go Back to May 1967
Yejide Idowu-Clarke
After Sharon Olds
I see them standing outside their family compounds.
I see my father wearing a white agbadan and
crocodile shoes, instructing his driver by the
spiked iron gate of their complex, he is just
twenty-four but already a big man in Lagos. It is
&nbs
p; rainy season, the air heavy with his looming proposal. I
see my mother walking barefoot on the red dust road to her
village, a calabash on her head, wearing her only cloth and
crucifix, she has just fetched water from the well.
They have not yet met, today they will be married.
My father will arrive in his Cadillac to
translate her into his bride, adorned with gold.
I want to approach them and say Stop,
I am begging you—you are not a bad woman,
he is not a good man, he is going to put you on trial
like Job: you will bear him a daughter, and later a son,
and each time he will say his people have turned against you
because you are from a small village and not educated,
each baby must be removed by force from your breast
(but he will secretly place us in care of my aunt
to attend the best schools in the country)
and you will draw the sign of the cross on our heads,
your womb will cry out but you will not disgrace him
for you promised to honour and obey; in time, he will claim
he wants a new wife, believes in one man one wife
and wants a divorce, will send you back to your village
barefoot and bareheaded with barely a cloth to cover
the belly that bore him two children; then order you back
like a housegirl to manage the house and the wedding feast
for his beautiful new wife from a good family
who resembles you, because it is I, your daughter,
standing before you, young, adorned with gold;
and only when you say, Oga, please I beg you,
do not treat your new wife the way you have treated me,
will he reveal his deception to test your faith
in him and your love of the Lord Jesus Christ. I want to
approach them, there in the late May heat and say it,
her hungry pretty face turning towards me
slow motion with the weight of the calabash,
his arrogant handsome face turning towards me
slowly with the precious weight on his mind.
But I do not say it. I want to live my life. I
take them up like Shango and Oshun
mahogany dolls and rub them together
at the hips, wood on wood, as if to
make fire from them, and I say
Do what is God’s will and I will bear witness.
That Beatin’ Rhythm
Soul Merchant
And I’m Damien, Agent 00 Soul from the Backstreet, the Image Of a Man. Saw a Job Opening for a Mr Clean to Lend a Hand to Little Old Man, January. He bought the House For Sale, The House Next Door, huge as a Haunted Castle. I fell The Big Oak Tree to make furniture an’ sing The Work Song as I’m clearing Bricks, Broken Bottles and Sticks outside. There’s a Storm Warning and I Run for Cover from the Spring Rain, the first Time I see May, the Lady In Green. She’s a Flower Child, a Wild One. I say Stop Girl, but she Keep On Walking, Surrounded By a Ray Of Sunshine. Am I Cold, Am I Hot. I Got the Fever. I Love Her So Much (It Hurts Me).
January puts the Band Of Gold on her Third Finger Left Hand an’ they Sign On the Dotted Line. Then we Dearly Beloved Come Back to bass. Ain’t Nothin’ But a Houseparty. There be Soul Food: Sliced Tomatoes and Green Onions. There be Apples, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie. There be Street Talk, Sweet Talk and Melodies.
—There Was a Time, says January, when I’d Philly Dog Around the World but I’m Tired Of Running Around. Since I Found My Baby, Home Is Where the Heart Is. When you’re old as The Big Oak Tree, Make Sure (You Have Someone Who Loves You), a Little Young Lover or Time Will Pass You By. Some say Ain’t No Soul Left In These Old Shoes but I’m forever a Night Owl. I’m Com’un Home In the Morning. Pity My Feet.
January, you Keep On Talking, I’ve Got My Eyes On You, Blushing Bride. Ain’t laying my Cards On the Table but My Heart Is Calling. Music, The Beat, That Beatin’ Rhythm. January leads May Out On the Floor and it’s Getting Mighty Crowded. I Can’t Be Still, gotta Dance, Dance, Dance: The Horse, The Boston Monkey, The Cool Jerk. I’m Where It’s At, Look At Me, Look At Me, girl, What’s My Chances? When they left, I Just Kept On Dancing but my Shoes got the Cold-Hearted Blues.
Love Love Love, I be Love Sick. Heart Trouble but Nobody Knows What’s Going On In My Mind But Me. This Love-Starved Heart (Is Killing Me). I S.O.S. so she know Something’s Wrong. Here She Comes, my Black-Eyed Girl, to Help Me.
—Only Your Love Can Save Me, I whisper. Call Me, Call Me Tomorrow!
—I Must Love You, she smiles, I Dream Of You. But January’s a Jealous Lover. Keeps a Shotgun.
—Don’t Worry ’Bout Me. I Can Take Care Of Myself, but Gotta Have Your Love, Can’t Wait No Longer, It’s Torture.
We plan to find some Love Time. She’ll Joe Tex me. It’s our Deep Dark Secret.
Then, All Of a Sudden, January’s struck blind as Ray Charles. Be’s That Way Sometimes. A Blessing In Disguise, If You Ask Me. They call Dr Love but January says to May,
—I Don’t Need No Doctor. I Need You! Don’t Pity Me.
Mister Misery for weeks, sees nothing but Ten Shades Of Blue. Only Sweet Soul Music make him Keep On Keeping On. He’d die for Suspicion.
—They’re Talkin’ About Me. They say You Don’t Love Me Anymore. Tell Me It’s Just a Rumour, Baby.
—Why Picture Me Gone? Baby Can’t You See, I’ll Always Love You.
Before he’d never Let Her Go Out Of Sight, now she Serving a Sentence of Life in a Prison of Love. He says,
—Baby Let Me Hold Your Hand. Never Gonna Let You Go. What Good Am I Without You?
How can I Love My Baby now she Never Alone? Calls for a Whole New Plan. Got To Find a Way.
January got a Top Secret room, he call ‘My Garden Of Eden’ where they Do It. Vinyl Heaven In the Afternoon, Wall To Wall Heartaches. Raised stage made from The Big Oak Tree, decks, A Lot Of Loving Goin’ Round the turntable. Nobody Knows where it’s at, Nobody But Me. She cut me a Key To My Happiness from the Master Key so we can get A Little Togetherness.
And today Sweeter Than the Day Before cos January says,
—Let’s Go To That Lovin’ Place,
an’ May Joe Tex me. I Run Like the Devil to that One Room Paradise and Up Jump the Devil on stage like I Playing Hide and Seek. No steps to climb Step By Step. I’m Waiting for you, Lady In Green, to open the Green Door, an’ I’ll Open the Door To Your Heart.
They Walk On In. January Just Can’t Trust Nobody since he blind. Thinks She Got Another Man.
—May, Do You Love Me or are you Somebody Else’s Sweetheart?
—What Kind Of Lady you think I am? I’m a Good Woman, Still True To You and I Keep the Faith. What More Do You Want?
—Little Darlin’, I’m So So Sorry. What Can I Do Just To Prove I Love You? An’ May says,
—I Feel an Urge Coming On for That Beatin’ Rhythm. Gotta find The Right Track for Our Love. I’m Not Strong Enough to Get On Up onto the stage, it’s Ten Miles High. If You Love Me, Get On Your Knees so I can climb Up and Over to the decks.
—For You Baby, I’ll Do Anything.
Some say, Love Ain’t Nothin’ (But a Monkey On Your Back) an’ that monkey Keep On Climbing up to where I’m Standing. She play ‘I Really Love You’ real loud. We gotta Take a Chance, Time’s a-Wasting. Temptation Is Calling My Name, Girl, Don’t Make Me Wait. She’s Turning My Heartbeat Up, Oh My Darling! No Time for Interp
lay, I’m The Snake In Paradise, Oh, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah …
And Suddenly January yells,
—What? Oh No Not My Baby! I Can See Him Loving You!!!
No Fortune Teller predict this. I’m In a World Of Trouble. And I think, Be Careful Girl, Better Use Your Head. Say It Isn’t So and May says,
—Sweetheart Darling, a Last-Minute Miracle! I’m So Glad your sight’s Come Back. Baby Can’t You See, Damien’s teaching me the Love Hustle? Don’t deny me One Little Dance!
—Who Are You Trying To Fool? I Can See Him Making Love To You, Baby! But May says,
—You’re Barkin’ Up the Wrong Tree. I love oldies not newies. I want a Big Bad Wolf not a Baby Boy. You Too Darn Soulful, That’s Why I Love You. And January says,
—If I Could Only Be Sure. I Was Blind, maybe Something’s Wrong With These Eyes. Just a Little Misunderstanding. If You’ve Been Cheatin’, I Don’t Like It (But I Love You). I’ll Forgive and Forget. May, We Were Made For Each Other, Like Adam and Eve. Do I Love You (Indeed I Do).
Now we Right Back Where We Started From. It’s Torture listening to A Lover’s Concerto, Standing In the Shadows Of Love. Give me The Real Thing. I’m Hung Up On Your Love, May, He’ll Never Love You Like I Do. I’m Stepping Out of the Picture, I’m On My Way, I’m Gone. But I’ll Never Forget You. My Heart Is Calling You Baby. Every Beat Of My Heart.
GRAVESEND
Fine Lines
Jeu’di Squires
You
knew
blue
was my colour the blue-black
of an old tattoo you drew
blood with your sword-pen-gun
I want you
back
No one-night-stud
on a shire horse
seeking princess in chintz dress you were the
Fire Horse
wild steed I rode bareback
held your hair for reins as you bolted like a stud
each strange steel stud
on your right ear gleaming in the true-black
Don’t touch my metal, you spat
so I held back
from your rook tragus lobe
three steel globes
though my tongue longed to lick
those flickering glittering ellipses …
No striptease
baring of the soul you were
pierced thick as chainmail
metal where you should have had a heart
I couldn’t read the body art
infiltrate the ink of each tattoo