Journey to Magnolia

Magnolia! I’ll paint my hall with ya,
The most ubiquitous paint of any hue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – I won’t paint my walls in anything but you.
Magnolia, Magnolia – not yellow or purple or pink or blue.

I went into the travel agent to book my holiday.
But when it came to asking where I wanted to stay,
A particular word stuck in my head and refused to go away.
Outer Magnolia, Magnolia – is the place to go, they say
Outer Magnolia, Magnolia – please take me there today.

Magnolia! I’ll paint my hall with ya,
The most ubiquitous paint of any hue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – I won’t paint my walls in anything but you.
Magnolia, Magnolia – not yellow or purple or pink or blue.

So, on a flight to Nizhny Novgorod and a train to far Irkutsk
I dozed off to the drone of throat singing, dreamt of Gobi’s sandy dunes
Magnolia, Magnolia – to you I dedicate this tune.
Magnolia, Magnolia – my ardent pleas were quite mistook.

Magnolia! I’ll paint my hall with ya,
The most ubiquitous paint of any hue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – I won’t paint my walls in anything but you.
Magnolia, Magnolia – not yellow or purple or pink or blue.

When I got home, I noticed my ceiling, it needed a new coat.
My skirting boards had gone off-white, their dust caught in my throat.
I’ve looked at the whole colour chart, from Alabaster to Xanadu
But Magnolia, Magnolia – there’s no place on my wall for any paint but you.

[Security, we have a disturbance in the home decorating section, near the tins of emulsion
Security – please remove the gentleman dressed in a pointy hat and fur boots immediately.]

Magnolia! I’ll paint my hall with ya,
The most ubiquitous paint of any hue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – you’re not yellow, or purple, or pink or blue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – some things are best not sung about in B&Q.

When Words Won’t Do

An empty bookshelf stands in the corner

Inhabits space where works would go.

 

Iain M Banks’ rollicking epics

Will not entrance with intricate inventiveness.

 

Volumes of Maya Angelou’s poetry

Will not move us to tears of anger.

 

Tony Benn’s diaries

Will not echo down corridors of power

 

Bob Crow’s speeches

Will not lead us into battle.

 

Rik Mayall’s slapstick

Will not give us respite from austerity.

 

Let us celebrate the legacy of those who went before.

Let us fight back, in a riot of creativity.

Let us unite against those who would silence us.

Let a new generation find their own voice.

Let us fill the bookshelf with stories of our struggles.

 

 

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You can read some more of my poetry in ‘Little Red Poetry’ (£4 pbk, £2.50 pdf e-book).

All proceeds go to build a new party for ordinary people, against cuts and privatisation. 

Copies are also available from Left Books

Busk For Socialism

Comedy Night on behalf of Rape Is No Joke

Comedy Night on behalf of Rape Is No Joke

Link to an article by Rebecca Christiansen, explaining about the Rape Is No Joke campaign.

Come along to the Basement, Wellington St, Leicester on the 22nd November for an evening of misogyny-free humour.

Performers – Tim Sayers and Lydia Towsey

£5 waged / £3 unwaged – all proceeds go to the campaign.