Come on Everybody

by Adrian Mitchell

  The Operation

  Roundabout

  A war is born: neighbour kills neighbour,

  They kill till they can kill no more.

  A peace is signed, war goes into labour

  And dies giving birth to another war.

  Playground

  dark brown eyes

  scanning dusty tarmac

  a boy on a swing

  head down

  mouth humming

  a boy swinging intensely

  before dusk he must go

  to his grandmother’s house

  on the edge of the city

  alone on a swing

  thinking on a swing

  a boy

  his mother will stay home

  she won’t go to the shelter

  people here are afraid of shelters

  they remember last time

  the chains of the swing

  they clank they creak

  the boy’s head fills

  with explosions

  a boy on a swing

  The Famous Battle

  Dawn came creeping

  On her soft grey paws

  Dawn came creeping

  On her soft grey paws

  By the time the sun rose

  She’d torn down the sky with her claws

  SHADOW SPEECHES

  The Shadow Poet Laureate moves in a mysterious way, something like a dark starfish. Occasionally it behoves him to speak rather than spout in public. Finding it hard to ad lib without swearing or soppiness, he writes down his prophetic if pathetic thoughts and reads them out. These are sometimes mistaken for poems and people even ask for copies. The rest of the pieces in this section were written for public performance.

  All the Light There Is was commissioned as a New Year 2003 poem for the BBC World Service – the Shadow recorded it and the BBC broadcast it all over the planet.

  When They Tell You to Go to War was spoken at a meeting about Vietnam and Iraq and also in Hyde Park at the historic rally of 15 February 2003. The Shadow was early on the bill and people had only been coming into the Park for an hour or so, but he was satisfied with an audience of around 250,000.

  Work To Do was written on the brink of the 2003 invasion of Iraq and spoken in Grosvenor Square on my wife Celia’s birthday. I’d been listening to a lot of speeches and some of them had seemed destructive to me. I wanted to speak up for the many pacifists in the anti-war movement.

  All the Light There Is

  We tossed a coin marked two thousand and three

  Heads for Peace, Tails for War – which’ll it be?

  Came down Tails – and I heard a voice:

  ‘Welcome to the Monster Zoo!

  We’re going to unlock all the cages

  And save Democracy for you.

  ‘And out will march monsters

  whose work is war.

  Their hearts are hot

  as the planet’s core.

  ‘For power and money

  they murder the poor,

  then they rape each other

  till war breeds war

  ‘And the air cracks into shrapnel,

  the oceans turn to lead

  and the earth itself is burning

  and all the light is dead.’

  Yes the monsters are rattling their cages

  their keepers are reaching for the keys

  and some of us are cheering on the monsters,

  and some of us are down on our knees

  singing

  we love the light

  all the light there is

  come and let’s walk

  into the light of peace

  no more war no more war

  Yes – it was Heads for peace, and a newborn child

  cuddled to its mother’s breast.

  Of all the visions I ever saw

  this vision was the best.

  So a New Year’s born –

  it gasps, it cries.

  Gather up the baby –

  gaze into its eyes

  Sing to the baby

  on the warm breast.

  Let the child drink peace,

  let the mother rest.

  singing

  we love the light

  all the light there is

  love is the light

  all the light there is

  peace is the light

  all the light there is

  come and let’s walk

  into the light of peace

  no more war no more war

  When They Tell You to Go to War

  don’t go

  don’t go to work

  don’t go to school

  don’t go to the movies

  don’t go to college

  don’t go to your regiment

  don’t go to your ship

  don’t go to your air base

  go into the streets

  take over the streets

  and bring Britain to a full stop

  when they tell you to go to war

  don’t go

  don’t go to war

  Work to Do

  I’m a pacifist.

  If you’re a pacifist too

  You know that as soon as you say:

  I’m a pacifist –

  A Political Person smiles and says:

  Of course I respect your position, but –

  Well I say: I don’t want your respect –

  How about your help?

  We’ve got work to do.

  And the Political Person smiles and asks

  The same stupid question time after time:

  Wouldn’t you have fought World War Two

  To stop Hitler?

  And I say: No – and here’s the reason why.

  Because I wouldn’t have fought World War One –

  So Hitler wouldn’t have come to power.

  Don’t you understand

  After all these centuries

  That war gives birth to war

  War gives birth to war?

  That’s how the murder plague grows

  Unless we stop it.

  Yes, we’ve got work to do.

  Many of us feel weary.

  We’ve been marching against the war

  And talking against the war

  And reading about the war

  And watching the TV war

  And we’re tired of watching slaughter

  And listening to the excuses for slaughter.

  And in this time of grief

  We often find ourselves on the brink of tears.

  OK, let the tears flow.

  Then wipe them away.

  Have a party, get a good night’s sleep –

  And start again.

  We’ve got work to do.

  We put on the greatest demo

  Ever seen in Britain.

  We put on the greatest demo

  Ever seen in wartime Britain.

  That’s a start.

  But we’ve got to stop this war.

  Stop the next war.

  Stop all wars.

  We find ourselves now

  In the middle of World War Three –

  The war which started

  When nuclear bombs dropped

  On Hiroshima and Nagasaki –

  World War Three –

  The war between the rich and the poor.

  That’s the task ahead of us –

  To bring an end to World War Three.

  To heal the wounds of the world.

  To bring peace throughout the world.

  We’ve got work to do.

  We’ll work with our French and German

  and American and Russian and Chinese

  and Pakistani and Cuban and South African

  and Iraqi brothers and sisters.

  We’ll make the United Nations

  A blessing on the world.

  We’ll teach our children and our grandchildren

  That we have done enough killing,

/>   That killing people is wrong.

  With them, we’ll examine pacifism

  And ways of non-violent resistance

  To cruel oppressors and benevolent oppressors.

  We’ll study and celebrate the lives

  Of Gandhi and Martin Luther King

  And their brave followers.

  We’ll set up Commissions of Truth and Reconciliation

  All over the world – including Ireland.

  We’ll help to organise

  The vast majority of the people of the planet

  Who long for peace

  And whose deepest wish

  Is No More War.

  And that’s our work

  No More War.

  So, like my Jamaican comrade

  Andrew Salkey used to say:

  Brothers and sisters –

  Keep on keeping on –

  We’ve got work to do.

  ENGLANDING

  Englanding

  We are the cold-eyed English

  from the islands of the rain

  and our cold eyes are not looking at you

  so how can you say we are cold to you

  when you are less than nothing at all to us

  and we save the cold of our eyes

  for the eyes of our cold families

  on the islands of the rain

  We are the cold-eyed English

  and at six in the evening we raise our glasses

  our glasses of luke-warm sherry

  and we say cheers and here’s to you

  to the Manager of the Bank of Cold

  and the Vicar of the Church of Cold

  and the Teacher who teaches our children Cold

  at the School of Coldness, which gets results

  and which we can just afford

  thanks to grandma’s shares

  in the Iceberg which sank the Titanic.

  Fun in World War Two

  Get your mack out

  Call Uncle Jack out

  To enjoy the black-out

  We’ll go to Piccadilly Circus

  And feel up the workers

  Maybe one of them will jerk us

  Banned for Six Months

  My Jaguar is mine and I am hers.

  She’s my Madonna. Say a prayer –

  Orphans, widows, widowers.

  I touch a switch. My wild witch purrs:

  ‘I’ll take you anyshiningwhere.’

  My Jaguar is mine and I am hers.

  Give her the gun and Wiltshire blurs.

  Two cyclists. Wham! A hedgehog. Squash! A hare –

  Orphans, widows, widowers.

  Why don’t they vivisect child-murderers?

  Pass me the in-car vodka. Yeah.

  My Jaguar is mine and I am hers.

  We’re off beyond speedometers

  Into a ghostly fog. Who’s there?

  Orphans, widows, widowers.

  The Court. Their family – the whimperers.

  My firm fixes a driver. I don’t care –

  My Jaguar is mine and I am hers,

  Orphans, widows, widowers.

  In a Brown Paper Bag

  in a brown paper bag

  is a crown of gold

  in the crown of gold

  is a loaf of bread

  in the loaf of bread

  is a loaded pistol

  take out the gold crown

  put it on your head

  order your brother

  to give you the bread

  it’s fifty-fifty

  he’ll shoot you instead

  To Somebody Considering Suicide

  up to you

  we’d sooner you didn’t

  but it’s up to you

  your mind

  your body

  your life

  your heart

  they’re all yours

  and it’s up to you

  if you throw them all away

  we’ll be sorry and sad

  and we’ll wave goodbye

  and now and then cry

  but we won’t throw our own lives away

  we’ll stick around down here

  and whenever we can

  we’ll have a good time

  if you’ve got the guts

  there are hundreds of other moves

  you could make or try to make

  instead of that one move

  you can’t take back

  imagine other choices

  imagine those changes of

  places

  people

  jobs

  missions or visions

  all those other paths

  but if every path leads you

  to the same brick wall

  it’s up to you

  bang your head

  on the wall

  till you’re dead

  or stop

  take a good look at the wall

  what’s stuck on it?

  a stupid poster advertising dread?

  tear it off

  underneath

  may be graffiti by Bessie Smith

  may be a phoenix by Turner

  and maybe

  fingerholds and toeholds

  between the bricks

  so haul yourself up

  and climb that wall

  climb up and over

  that fucking wall

  but it’s

  up to you

  if you can’t make it

  sorry

  very sorry but we won’t

  carry your bones around with us

  everywhere

  we’ve got dances to try

  and other chips to fry

  before we lie

  down and let

  the wall

  fall on us

  meanwhile

  whatever you choose to do

  up to you,

  love,

  up to you.

  for mental patients

  pull yourself together

  that’s what they always say

  pull yourself together

  throw your cares away

  pull yourself together

  but if they knew my heart

  and how it kicks inside me

  they’d say

  pull yourself apart

  all together now

  Doctor Rat Explains

  we place each subject

  in a complicated maze

  with high walls and bright-flickering lights

  to those who work well –

  pressing down the correct levers –

  we give rewards

  to those who prove useless –

  recalcitrant, scratching themselves in corners –

  we allot punishments

  the rewards

  are the gourmet delights of Wealth

  the punishments

  are the electric aches and pains of Poverty

  this experiment proves

  that the meaning of Money can be taught

  to the majority of human beings

  ARTEFACTIONS

  Misery Me!

  (This is a song from my stage version of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. It is sung by Lucy, a young evacuee who has been sent with her brothers and sisters to the country during the bombing of London in World War Two. There she has discovered a wardrobe through which she can reach the magical land of Narnia. But nobody believes her. All she can do is sing her heart out to the audience.)

  When Alice came home from Wonderland

  Did her family laugh and jeer?

  When Crusoe sailed back from his island

  Did they say: You imagined it dear?

  When Dorothy flew in her ruby slippers

  From the Emerald City of Oz

  Did her Auntie Em say it was all a dream?

  I bet they all did, because –

  Father’s in the Royal Navy

  Somewhere out at sea

  I’m dreaming of submarines –

&
nbsp; Misery me!

  Mother would come down from London

  But she isn’t free

  I’m dreaming of falling bombs –

  Misery me!

  We’re here in the heart of the country

  And we dive in the pond by the mill

  And we fish for trout in the river

  And we slide down the side

  Of a bumpy old hill

  And I should be as happy as Larry

  Playing Cowboys and Indians all day

  But everyone believes I’m a liar

  So I wish I could grow some wings

  And fly far away

  Father’s in the Royal Navy

  Somewhere out at sea

  I’m dreaming of Narnia –

  Misery me!

  Mother would come down from London

  But she isn’t free

  I’m dreaming of Narnia –

  Misery me!

  What Poetry Says

  (a free translation from Remco Campert)

  Poetry says: Yes, I’m alive.

  Poetry says: No., I’m not alone.

  Poetry is the day after tomorrow

  Dreaming of Wednesday week

  In a far country, with you, aged 89 and a half.

  Poetry breathes in and out,

  It puts the beat in my feet,

  It makes them hesitate and hover

  Over the earth which longs for them to dance on it.

  Voltaire got smallpox, but he cured himself

  By swigging 200 pints of lemonade