Arts and Culture in Hull By Joe Hakim

it's about who your friends are and the circles you move in it's about the boxes you tick and the forms you fill out it's about being the same as everyone else and crushing individuality it's about appealing to the lowest common denominator and giving up dreams it's about playing the game and cheating the system it's about surrendering principles and limiting ambitions it's about sacrificing dignity and waving goodbye to hope it's about kissing arses and personal grudges it's about trampling on ideas and stifling creativity it's about maintaining the status quo and the fear of change it's about corrupting culture and political bias it's about keeping up appearances and deceiving the masses it's about bitching, whining, and never making a difference and it's got fuck all to do with art

Copyright © Joe Hakim 2009

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Poetry - Metal Box By Dean Wilson

	Meet me in the long grass by what's left of the factory where our mothers worked and I will count the freckles on your back. Read more...

Poetry - Garbage By Terry Ireland

There was a memorial in the Cathedral Then one father took a stand, Refusing to grasp and shake The ex leaders bloodied hand. He was dragged up by his boot straps, on an inner city sink estate, from a family full of love, lived in a street full of hate. And he joined the British army Read more...

Poetry - Boxing The Compass By Carol Coiffait

You can stay in one place only long enough to find your way to the chip-shop, the bus-stop and back home Or longer to make a net Read more...

Poetry - Cider Barry By Mike Watts

My mate's a boozer Always smashed on cider Always lost in space Wind milling All over the place And it troubles me It's horrible Watching him drown In fermented apple Read more...

Poetry - Brough Haven By Carol Coiffait

Here, where they say the Romans crossed, the river is raw; a mangy dog chewing at its flank. Great gobs of grass and mud, slewing and shouldered, field by sly field off the northern bank. All that is left for the beleaguered sheep and lambs Read more...

Poetry - Ode to Sir John By Mark Walmsley
	A warm summer noon, for a game of bowls Lily white dresses on court, Fine cut grass with honeysuckle perfume A surely cocked boater Gin fizz and water Willow hooked seamer, red leather to be caught. Clattering carts, over cobbled cascade Read more...

Poetry - My Poem From 1979 By Ruth

I never wanted to paint by the numbers, and always had to do it myself - my way. When was it that I traded my blueprint canvas for a tabula rasa? Too long ago; can't remember. All around me, my peers going through someone else's predictated motions. Dancing: With painted footsteps Singing: With someone else's words Read more...

Poetry - A Right Kettle to Fix By Patrick Henry
	Protest at street demos, taken as free right, Frames you on mad fringes in duffle coats. Cordons of order close in the nation's thought, That terror looms more than fresh climates we need. Cops numberless strike, then hide in shadows. A newsvendor is hit by no sheer chance, But a target for their control at points of info. Read more...

Poetry - If Only You Knew By Joe Hakim

Put the tips of your fingers into my mouth while I trace the outline of your thigh. I could crawl into you, you could bury me - make me forget to set the alarm. I want to watch your throat as you Read more...

Poetry - Balloon Boy Saga By Belinda Barchard
	'Just go and hide in the attic' he said as he talked to his child on the end of the bed 'but why Daddy, do I have to hide?' his son of six questioned as he sat by his side 'Because you have to pretend that you're in my homemade balloon ... when it flies through the sky to your 'impending doom' 'But why do we have to pretend that it's me?' His Dad smiled 'because we'll be on TV!' Read more...

Poetry - Hyde and Seek By Bronwyn Ellis
	By the light of the day he is merely a shadow, A dark faceless echo pursuing my steps, He stalks through the mirrors to haunt my reflection, A secretive burden too long I have kept. A phantom of sins which denied my suppression, Laid dormant for years in the wells of my brain, But curious Henry with notions and potions, Awakened the slumbering evils again.Read more...

Poetry - Post Cod War Blues Part 2 - A Mouthful of Ashes By Terry Ireland

Blood money isn't paid in silver these days, just transferred straight to your account with a sheet of computerised data to inform you their agreed amount. Now I'm standing over the fish sheds to my front are near empty docks behind, the steady running Humber, to the left the gates and locks.Read more...

Poetry - Returning to Paragon, St. Stephens By Julie Corbett

The harvest of sniper seeds Loaded to crevice and gutter Lesser yellowed urban bouquets Chlorophyll stems Renewing old lines and visions Seasonal planning of the green space Many striations and stipples Read more...

Poetry - Getting to Know Each Other By Jim Higo

We sat on the sofa and she stared deep into my eyes; pleading, searching, demanding, with a probing glare that looked for answers from deep within my soul, like a rape victim meeting her attacker (I should point out that that is purely a fictitious metaphor). She said, 'Tell me what it is. Read more...

Poetry - When You Add It All Up By Jim Higo

Ernie without Eric, 10 without Bo Derek, A diocese without a cleric, Scottish football without Berwick. There's really not much point. The thoughts of Tony Blair, Arthur Scargill's hair, Two minus a pair, Read more...

Poetry - Soldier Boys By Bronwyn Ellis
	The unsung heroes nameless in war, Fighting and dying like thousands before, Forgetting their freedom to salvage our own, And the promise of honour when the troops return home, Boys trained to men in the blink of an eye, To combat and conquer or battle and die, Where all hope is lost they continue in vain, And we bury their bodies but never their name. Read more...

Poetry - The Bad And The Ugly By Mike Watts

Last night I picked up a brick And broke a window I watched the glass Smash and crash I watched it explode and splinter It was the chemist I'd done And being too pissed to run I just stood there Read more...

Poetry - Mum's The Word By Lin Whitehouse

Is it too much to ask for a moment alone, to sigh when I like, not answer the phone. To leave the dishes, not make all the beds. Eat fresh air for one day and not bang the boy's heads    Read more...

Poetry - Closing Time at The Rugby Tavern By Joe Hakim

wring my soul out like a dirty flannel and hang it on the line; sprinkle my heart with sage fry it in batter and shower it in salt Take me home past the burnt-out church and Read more...

Poetry - Repatriation By Terry Ireland

RAF Lyneham. The airplanes circles, Lands and waits. In due time the bearer party Transfer the coffin, Flag draped, At the slow march. Read more...

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