Colour theory/Or what I learned in Art School

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Colour theory

black is not a colour

nor is white

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though some whites think

they are whiter than white

those whiter than white whites

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lets call them the man

think black is a colour

for them colour theory does not apply

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what a surprise is in store

if they open their eyes

open their minds

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and let the sunlight in

black is not a colour

any rainbow lays down the rules

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black is not a colour

nor is white

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©robcullen12062021

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I am my own silence

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Silences vacancies empty spaces

lemons yoghurt spuds

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HUSH!

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The silence of the middle class again

think you can close the door

you are deluded

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WHISHT!!!

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What is the message?

This message of silence

What are you trying to say?

What are you trying to tell me?

With your silences.

Your non replies.

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Is it that I haven’t lived

the times I’ve worked through

driving past lorries filled with coal

convoys of lorries on the motorways

filling up the power stations stores

to break the miner’s strike

to break a community

to break a people

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seeing strikers in the cells

and expected to collude

with the depravity of the middle class

punishment your silences again and again

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WHISHT TO YOU!!!

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Is that your message?

I haven’t raised children?

I haven’t saved children?

nothing I’ve seen

nothing I’ve touched

nothing I’ve smelt

actually happened

means anything

in this world of everyday pain

is that your message?

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Speaking on behalf of miners wives

in the Fines Enforcement Debtors Court

before those pompous magistrates

in their ties and suits living in piano rows*

stopping the wives going to prison

for non payment of a fucking TV licence

show some fucking respect

not your silence hiding the fact

you have nothing to say

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That was then this is now

food banks are empty

food banks keep running out

children go to school hungry

empty hungry empty hungry

that was then this is now

sixth wealthiest nation

empire gone going down

moving the deck chairs around

while Nero’s violin plays a stringent tune

children starving empty hungry

that was then this is now

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sliced bread bags of potatoes

pasta rice tomatoes bags of this

bags of that — tins of beans tins tins

anything tinned bags of sugar

anything you can give anything at all

big little or small big little or small

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SHUSH AND AWAY WITH YOU

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That was then this is now

Global Britain rules the waves

Global Britain rules Covid too

Just remember killers take many shapes

even assassins read poetry

some read ancient Greek

mass killers enjoy a good tune

some love jazz and dance about

Sergei Rachmaninoff knew a thing or two

I’ve lived I’m still here

you can’t own my silence

in this world of everyday pain

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IN THIS WORLD OF EVERY DAY PAIN

I OWN MY SILENCE

WHISHT AND BEGONE!!!

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I’ve lived I’m still here

you can’t own my silence

in this world of everyday pain.

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WILL YE WHISHT AND BEGONE.

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Footnote: piano rows* houses of skilled working class and lower working class who had pianos in their front room for a child to practice.

©robcullen20062020

Number fourteen

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Darkness comes darkness goes then there’s grey

sometimes some people can dance through darkness

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Some of the time some people hide in the darkness

apparently- there’s no light to look into the darkness

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A boy dances to make the woman his mother smile

she is lost in the darkness he wants her to laugh or dance sometimes

do anything to see her smile a boy dances for the woman

who closes the door the door closes darkness closes in

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The woman re-appears fully dressed shopping bag in hand

closes the door says I won’t be long he sits on the bottom stair

looking at the frosted glass window of the bottle green door listening

a glass spider hangs from a thread in the glass window staring

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The old house was burned down exactly a year after we moved out

to another house up the hill exactly a year since the neighbour

from hell moved in next door with her drunken antics, and theatrics

late night dramas, shouting and swearing anytime the woman

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my mother hung clothes on the wash line on a sunny day

anytime she left the house to catch a bus to shop in town

she my mother closed the door and stayed in the darkness

she my mother trapped left the house for as long as she could

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Scorched and smoking the house of my childhood

the place of my memories boarded and smouldering

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an Angels feathers falling

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©robcullen05072021

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