Coventry Blood, Brummy Heart


Coventry blood, Brummy heart
You have made me
There is no one on earth who can save me
And no State machine will enslave me

The train brought me here
Poetry and beer
Made me freer
Birmingham you are as queer
As the poem I once wrote

About all the girls I have never loved

Before…

When I was a childe
I walked as a childe
(Harold died for Maude
I live to die)
Around the City Centre
The bright lights called me

The shops, the shops, the shops
Enticed me through their doors
Adorning fleshy architecture
I tried not to bore
With my prosaic presence
Brummy women and men
Who were so much prettier
Their conversation far wittier
Than her indoors, aka, Cov(en)tary

Coventry blood, Brummy heart
You have untamed me
But no one can persuade me
That I am amazing

So I amazed me
And read my bloody awful poetry
In pubs and cafes for free
Whilst the audiences shouted for Jasmine Gardosi

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Speaking about mental health and recovery, Jan 14 1-3 p.m. 2015


I am giving a FREE TALK about mental health and recovery on Jan 14th 1-3 p.m.

If you are interested in non-medical approaches to mental health/illness or my journey from mental health service user to published writer you are welcome to attend.

The talk is taking place at:

The Thrive Centre

5th Floor, Coventry Point

Market Way

Coventry

To book a place (places can be pre-booked only)  please email marionaslan@aol.com  or  sarah.shelton1@gmail.com

Tele Marion: 0793 4675237

For more details visit http://www.elementalwellbeing.org

Sent to Coventry


The corridors
Within the city walls
Echo
With the sound of torment
And in Coventry Central Hall
Coffee cups rub up against crucifixes

February was an unforgiving month
Spreading thoughts
Like breeding moss
From worker to boss
About the possibility of ruling class surrender

A pretender
To the throne
Of the home
The housewife mourns
Her tears roar like thunder

And those who try
Fail to die
Ending up on hospital wards

What is to become of Jesus Iscariot
Formed in Stoke Aldermore
Coventry
Baptised in delusions
An allusion
Waiting to be born?

For, we who have history
Cut our throats every second day
And question why
The oppressed do not try
To find a better way out

It is what life is all about
Teeth your grit and bear it