Des Mannay is a disabled Welsh writer of colour.
His first poetry collection, "Sod ’em – and tomorrow" is published by
Waterloo Press. He is co-editor of The Angry Manifesto poetry journal. Winner
-'rethinkyourmind' poetry competition (2015), LIT-UP poetry competition (2019).
2nd/ highly commended - Disability Arts Cymru poetry Competition (2015). 'Gold
Award' - Creative Futures Literary Awards (2015). Shortlisted in 7
competitions, performed at numerous venues/festivals, and published in various
poetry journals. Judge in the Valiant Scribe 'Vultures and Doves' poetry
competition (USA). Work in or accepted for 41 poetry anthologies. Des is on
facebook as "The stuff wot I wrote' Des Mannay - hooligan Poet" and
Twitter as @hooliganpoet
The Fight
Things are alright,
when you're in the fight
No time to think.
Can't even blink.
Punches to throw -
dodge the next blow.
Stick in the boot.
Chairs to uproot.
Tables to follow.
No time to wallow.
In self pity -
because life is shitty.
Throw some more punches,
fighting by hunches.
Its like painting by numbers -
except for the numbness.
Blood on your clothes.
Where from? No one knows.
The blood’s not from you -
its the other man's dew.
As it seeps through his skin,
aren't you glad its from him?
Its a bad tempered boy
who’s God is, "Destroy".
No point in holding back,
just continue to attack -
till the man spattered in red
has finally fled.
Its the angry man's brood,
and the thinking man's food.
Yes, its food for thought,
the lesson you're taught -
that in the end nothing really has changed,
just a few faces have been re-arranged.
No flames to tinder
Find people
aren't that
into me, see
Mother warned
had to tell girls
dad was Black.
Not what people
want to hear.
First date?
Confession
leads to
awkward silence.
Know why mum
told me this.
Sister and
boyfriend
never told
his parents.
Mother recalls
the look -
horror on
their faces,
when met
for wedding plans.
"Thought she
was Italian".
Not even Catholic...
See method
in the
madness?
These days
I find
people
just
aren't
that....
intimacy.
Not a bird in a gilded cage
The Raven died before
dawn. Hunted down by
other birds. Committed
a crime against Aves
Disturbed the pecking
order. Flew across
county lines, to join
the feeding frenzy -
of predilection
for
addiction. Went from
carrier to carrion, on
that fatal night
Think the magpies
did it. No conscience
in their kill - to protect
status, gold and jewels.
The stars give witness
statements, about the
crime scene mob.
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