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Nina Childish

~ and various brain kittens

Nina Childish

Tag Archives: poetry

untitled (kicking against the tropes)

26 Monday Sep 2016

Posted by ninachildish in Poetry, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

disability, fuck tropes, poetry

I am not a good cripple
I am not brave or inspirational
I was not a courageous child
Nor injured in war

I do not bear my cross with grace and patience
My honesty is unpalatable, humour too morbid
Cousin Helen can go fuck herself
I create uncomfortable silences

There is no yearly event for me
My illness is not marketable
I am not “battling” anything
(It’s a war of attrition)

I am not a good cripple
Sympathy makes me sneer
I have to choke out thank yous
And pretend I don’t resent it

A bad poem for the upcoming General Election.

19 Thursday Mar 2015

Posted by ninachildish in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

benefits, poetry, Tories

On a cold rainy night I was lounging at home
With a Pinot, and Tivo, and porn on my phone
When in burst the skipper all flustered and stressed
By expenses and bankers and all of that mess
So I said to my boss, turning off Geordie Shore,
“Dave, have you thought about blaming the poor?”

“They’re already downtrodden, they’ve nothing to lose
We’ll say they waste money on gambling and booze
They have too many children and live far too long
They’re shirkers and scroungers, it’s morally wrong!
Supporting them goes against what we stand for,
So let’s have a toast to scapegoating the poor!”

“My god!” exclaimed Dave, “You’re really spot on!
If we just shift the blame then our worries are gone
A few skewed statistics are all that we need
So the voters ignore our corruption and greed
I’ve got friends in high places with morals on the floor
They’re sure to help us with exploiting the poor.”

So this election when you cast your vote
Just think about who got you into this boat
Not us, Dave and Gideon, we care for your rights
We feel so acutely your middle-class plights
It’s the ones who take most yet keep asking for more
Yes, we sure did a great job of blaming the poor.

n.a.j.Grant 2015

unwritten, unnamed

17 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by ninachildish in Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

poetry

the words unspoken, unwritten, stopped short of their destiny

stick in my teeth and decay and make my gums

bleed the reek of stagnating ideas follows me

around you can smell it on me

my creative fatigue the fear of loosing

the words slowly mouldering in my mouth

n.a.j.Grant 2014

Mantra

05 Friday Dec 2014

Posted by ninachildish in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

poetry

Out of hazy nothingness comes a mantra
sung to the altar of my body.
I hear my name over and over again
until it feels strange and loses all meaning and I stop trying to hear.
With urgent orison you try to reunite my body and mind.
You read to me from my own holy book
tell me my story for fear it has been seizure-shaken from my brain.
I feel your hands, desperate unwanted anchors, on my face and on my chest but my own hands are lost somewhere. My body is tossing in the breeze
like so many dead leaves scattering apart.
Your mantra passes through me and fills me with hopes I cannot live up to
of the person, not the dead leaves no I am leaves now leave me
I will be reborn from this, hollow and intangible and needing no prayer.
This chant is for you, not me. Your elegy to the disappeared name.

n.a.j.Grant 2014

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