Series introduction
This new series of prose poems began at the end of March 2026. I hadn’t written a new poem for a couple of years at least and was beginning to imagine that ‘being a poet’ was something in my past. That’s OK. I am comfortable with moving on and there are poets aplenty out there. However, poetry has been one way of me making sense of the world, and it returned suddenly, with some surprise on my part, as if a tap had been turned on full. Having said that, after 68 years on this earth, it’s clear that the world often makes little sense (or at least not the human bit of it), so perhaps all I can do is to let my thoughts and feelings about what I see pour out. I do have an inkling that these pieces have something to do with ‘unpsychology’ (whatever that means) and that’s why I’m posting them here. All these prose poems appear in the original form in which they were written, though they’ve had some light editing along the way.
Context #2: Books…
This second piece was written on 31st March 2026.
‘One day everyone will have always been against this’ is the title of a book by Omar El Akkad, that I read, and was profoundly affected by, last year. See here for a longer treatment of the themes in the book:
The other context for this piece came from Yanis Varoufakis’ book: ‘Raise Your Soul: A Personal History of Resistance,’ his memoir/personal history and effects of fascism and colonialism across the region sometimes referred to as the Middle East, through the lives and activism of five women in his life. Find it HERE.
2. Olive oil…
Olive oiled, something avoidable slides into view, cannot be unseen now, the gag reflex triggered as red hands and fingers appear – teasing a question. Meanwhile olive trees are uprooted in the homelands, bulldozers unearthing centuries of gnarled existence, and identities are exploded – otherwise eroded – the effect is the same in the long term. I have a vision of gun-toting rebels staggering under an unrelenting sun. Hunted, as ever, by fascists, the refusal to accede is a passport to some humid stinking cell, somewhere deep in a Mediterranean labyrinth. Escape to a mythical isle is temporarily possible, a place where existential schooling takes place, and the exiled are reunited with their sacred tree, tasting sweet and salted fruit, a reminder of what freedom is like when it slides across your lips and tongue. Though, if you’ve come to this place, you’ve permitted the world to implode upon you. Everything is tied up here, in this fertile heart, and now everything is burning. The pretence of civilisation is generations old, now almost never noticed. Even in the face of mass murder the flip is automatic. Good guy. Bad guy. Terrorist. Bang, bang, you’re dead, and your children too. One day everyone will have always been against this,* but for now there’s nine circles of Hell to pay, and all kinds of oil to dig for. In the olive grove lives a family. You'd know them from anywhere, you’ve seen their faces. Weathered. Lined. Smiling. Children with serious mischief in their fingertips. Uncles with magic in theirs. Kitchens catalyse alchemical transformation. Olives. Tomatoes. Bread. Cheeses of all kinds. The sound of goat-bells through the crags. You’ve seen these places and the gods they harbour, but you may have missed the insidious stories; tales that sway this way and that. Sea tales swept out by storms on the water. Fierce songs carried in on the names of desert winds. These stories always have death in them – that’s the thing – and there’s no escaping the downward draughts and spirals of destruction when the drones are flying out to play.
*Note: ‘One day everyone will have always been against this’ is the title of a book by Omar El Akkad. See context above.
What a moving poem Steve, immediately this film came to mind.
It’s just seven and a half minutes long.
https://youtu.be/KSZ4Qsdi6Ac
I saw it in Scotland at Dundee Contemporary Arts cinema on International Women’s Day.
https://dundee-nablus.org.uk/dnta-dca-films-to-celebrate-international-womens-day/