Angry Poet

Sometimes words just overflow and have to be spoken out loud.

There’s good - And there’s bad

And there’s angry

I’m angry

I’m angry inside

Deep inside

Where hurts I never imagined could happen

Are happening

Even the infinitesimal spaces

The cavernous hollows

Of what makes up me

Are hurting

I’m hurting Heather Hyer

I’m hurting for you

I’m hurting with anger,

I’m livid, incensed,

Fist clenched,

Heart racing,

Teeth grinding

Fuming to boiling over,

Furious from the inside-out

So heated I’m in meltdown,

And I know shouting won’t help,

Screaming won’t help

Throwing objects across the room

Smashing devices

Ripping up newspapers,

Burning books,

Getting hold of a picture

Of Donald Trump

Screwing it up into a ball

And setting fire to it

Won’t help

You

You haters of this world

You nasty people

You who like to bully

You racist thugs

You destroyers of lives

You vile, offensive,

Nauseating bigots

You foul mouthed xenophobic

Extremist right

You Nazi flag flying

Demolishers of society

You

You have made me

Angry

And now this

Innocent people killed in Barcelona

Terrorists shot dead in the street

Echos of Westminster Bridge

Manchester kids blown to pieces

Sunbathers machine-gunned down

German Shoppers annihilated

Je suis Charlie!

And this is only a fraction of it

This is only recent memory

This isn’t going back to bandstands

In Hyde Park

To double decker buses

To underground trains

This isn’t going to Syria

Afghanistan, Turkey, Israel

Ghaza, The West Bank,

Chechnia, Ukrain, Pakistan

Yugoslavia, Croatia,

And when it seemed like the whole world

Was against Blair going to war in Iraq

Nothing could stop him

No amount of ‘plaques for peace’

No amount of anger

No amount of love

Well that’s what it feels like now

Like the love in my body

Is under attack

So get this, body

Get this world

I’m telling you to get a hold

I’m telling you to stop hurting

And to replace that rage

With something constructive

Replace the anger

Replace the clenched fist

Replace any trace of venom

And You

What happened to human kindness?

What happened to a sense of decency?

What happened to conscience?

Don’t tell me God wants

you to be the way you are

Don’t tell me that

Figure it out

There’s good

And there’s bad

I know where I stand

And now I'm going to bake a cake with lots of love in it. 

I'll be right back when I've calmed down a bit.

Love and hugs,

Jane x

Rain in Great Ayton...Well it's not Crete is it.

Whilst Crete slumbers in a summer heat wave Jane and I enjoy a bit cooler weather in North Yorkshire.



Jane Sharp - Writer - Poet - Musician : Rain in Great Ayton: I love July! Especially the 10th of July. You see it's my Birthday. Over the years I have seen some wickedly alcofrolic birthdays, in fa...

Removing Ear Wax

When we got back from our holidays there was a poster through the door advertising a free consultation with an audiologist who was offering treatments for the removal of ear wax. I thought, God! has it come to this. But I kept the flyer, and re-reading it today, it gave me inspiration for this poem. I do suffer from a bit of tinnitus but I think I'll live with it.

‘Every year in the UK, an estimated 2.3 million people have problems with excessive ear wax.’

Never Stick Anything Smaller Than Your Elbow in Your Ear

If you’ve hairy canals, or you stick things

in your ears, like plugs or phones, or plastic

amplifiers, or you’ve clocked up more years

than most and you’re a bit dizzy, it’s wax.

If it itches, or aches or makes a high

pitched buzz-like radio interference

or you say ‘pardon’ when shop assistants

speak, or hairdressers ask if you want tea

and all you see are lips moving sideways

as you smile into the mirror, It’s wax.

You know what they say, never stick anything

smaller than your elbow in your ear,

So you know the eraser on the end

of your pencil, isn’t a good idea

and you don’t want to use a cocktail stick

for fear of poking a hole in your drum

and you’ve just clipped your fingernails because

they’re too long to text, and anyway now

you’ve pushed it so far down with whatever

you’ve had plugged into your ears it’s stopping

the sound, and at worst is a bung of wax.

Then this leaflet drops through your letterbox,

Ear Wax Removal. What! Irrigation?

Microsuction? Dry procedures, dissolve

and flush out hard, dry or impacted wax.

Oh! Eugh! Disgusting, audiologist

not in my front room, you think, Google it.

You read about available products:

Smart Earwax Removal – Insert and twist,

grooved head collects more wax than cotton swabs,

Earpal Ear Wax Remover – Unisex - 

I suppose men have bigger ears, more wax - 

a loop of specially shaped surgical

steel which can never perforate the eardrum,

Cordless Vacuum, Ear Wax Syringe, Pick,

Electric Vibrating Wax Remover,

Hydrogen Peroxide Drops, with warning - 

do not use if you have tried to remove

any ear wax using your finger nail.

Multifunctional swab – for all functions

see a medical practitioner. And,

if you really want to try something new

there’s Thermo-Auricular Therapy

where they stick a foot long candle made of

linen soaked in paraffin, in your ear,

set light to one end, and claim negative

pressure sucks the wax into the candle,

it’s called The Chimney Effect, but you don’t

feel the heat because you are listening to

Zen-music whilst staring at a Buddha.

And afterwards you’ve got warm, relaxed ears

but can’t hear a thing. You’ve read enough.

You log out of Google, scrunch the flyer

into a ball no bigger than your elbow,

and put it in the bin. You decide the

constant music of the spheres in your head

is not at all unpleasant, and anyway, 

it won’t be long before your fingernails grow.

I think I must have a warped muse working with me at the moment, either that or I'm just not hearing right.

I had a lovely day at the Shortland's Poetry Circle Summer Celebration, at Ripley Arts Centre, Bromley, on Tuesday where the guest poets were Danielle Hope and Michael Loveday. After the reading there was a homemade afternoon tea complete with strawberries dipped in dark chocolate, yummy! It was a good antidote to the terrible sadness of the past couple of weeks in London.

If you haven't listened to Ben Okri's poem, do it now.

So sad, such a brilliant poem and what an accurate account of that terrible scene. My prayers are for both the lost and the living.

It's a sad note to end on but all those people deserve a minute of our energy to help them get through.

Talk again soon,
Jane x

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