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On a roof in the Old City
Laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight:
The white sheet of a woman who is my enemy,
The towel of a man who is my enemy,
To wipe off the sweat of his brow.

In the sky of the Old City
A kite.
At the other end of the string,
A child
I can't see
Because of the wall.

We have put up many flags,
They have put up many flags.
To make us think that they're happy.
To make them think that we're happy.
Fish fingers and beans
Will always mean to me
Dinner at my Nan's
When I was still a young lass

My mum would see us off
Out the door
Over the road
To the place that was
My Nan's

She would take me back
To World War Two
Telling me story's
Of people she knew

Some where really exciting

Some where  really quite scary

Some where really,
sad...

Some where hypnotizing
But

most of all she told me how
She met my grandad
A handsome man
With sparkling eyes
Who told story's of people
He knew

Fish fingers and beans
Will always mean to me

Dinner at my Nan's.
Making my daughter fish fingers for dinner which always has me thinking of my nan which in turn brought this poem to life .
Thank you nan ***
There's the sort of fear
that
paralyses
your body,
and
the sort of fear
that eats at you
from the inside out,
until your smile wavers
and the truth starts to show.
There's the sort of worry
that
plays on your mind,
and the sort of worry
that
ruins your mind,
turns it rotten
and blinds your eyes,
so there's no colour left in your isis
and all you see is black.
There's the sort of hope
that seems
like a light at the end of the tunnel
and
the sort of hope
that is essential
and is the last bit of rope
for you to grip on to
before the darkness eats you whole.
There's a type of
pleading
that means
"Give me the last cookie",
and there's the sort of
pleading
that means
I'm begging.
Please,
please,
please.
Is there no more hope in self?
Surely things have been worse before,
yet you constantly play the role of victim.
A harsh reality we face daily
that consumes those who are weak.

I practice what I preach, though it's not enough.
It can't be- Afterall, you're just not the same.
How could someone like you step in my shoes?
How could you comprehend the struggle and pain?
Should I even bother wasting my time on this game?

Weeks will go by, and you'll ask, "Where is he?"
I won't even be there to answer you,
but if I were, I would say something like this,
"While you moped and sat in misery
I did what I said,
and now I'm making history."
You left me
                B           U          S           D
                      R            I           E
but I later found words of LOVE

You left me
                                    s
                          ­                   C      a
                                                        ­      R    e
                                                    ­                       D
but I later found someone to stitch


You left me
               Br
                      ok
                                en
but I found something that healed


You left me
                    U s E D
but I found that one person's junk is someone else's treasure

You left me
                  LO
                  ST
but I still found a way.
H.O.P.E - Hold on pain ends.
 Feb 2014 Rina Steinberg
Renae
Everybody's saying
"The world's about to change
but don't worry about a thang"
Stop and think about that.
Change is rapid
It's already happened
ever since world war one
It's been a downhill run
Its a good time to know
which side you're on
Don't get stuck in a trench
You'll never get out
Don't be wishy-washy
You'll end up in doubt
It has to come to an end
Somehow someway
Makes you think about
how you're living
Your life today
 Feb 2014 Rina Steinberg
Polly o
They brought her in the night,
Sixteen ,with child, alone
To a refuge for her fallen state,
this holy place, her home.
She toiled and worked
from morn till night
Washing the stains away
of the holy men's  ****** fluids
Child's blood their pitiful prey

At Twelve she went to work in the big house on the hill
When her work was over,
there was more work waiting still
The Squire that tortured wildlife
and things so helpless small
***** this child at midnight,
in the wilds of Fox-ward hall
four long years she answered him,
she answered to his call
She cooked his meals,
she cleaned his house
and his twisted needs were met
And all the time she prayed for strength,
for refuge,  or for death


They took her clothes
with disdainful looks
and then they cut her hair
She sighed and blessed herself
the holy nuns would care
And the holy god on high
that she prayed to night and day
had looked on her with pity
and saw her deep dismay
And the heartfelt thanks she prayed that night
went straight to heavens door
She was free from him at last ,
suffering no more

She rose at dawn a call to prayer, to him that does sustain
the human wretches no one wants, he carries all the pain

She worked long hours with little food
Though awkward and heavy with child
The Holy nuns grew harder still
And she grew more beguiled
Their insults flew from day to night
and cut to the very bone
Her knuckles raw from scrubbing sheets
For the nuns with hearts of stone

"Atone for the sins of your ******* unborn
Your clothes have been taken
your head has been shorn
Now polish the floor
and do it again
ATONE!
ATONE!
ATONE!
for your sin"

Rich men who live in houses fine
Dine with clergy on food and wine
Tell the peasants how to live
Take what girls are forced to give
Nuns that float on a higher plane
Look down on us all wrapped in shame
******* priests that break the bread
and **** the boys when mass is said

And the God of hate that lives on high
Will pass his judgement by and by
alone with fear she waits unsure
Worthless,filthy, unwanted, *****
The nuns with venom, spit their lie
and light the candles to god on high

"Oh! blessed ****** Mary, you that know all pain"
"Help me ****** Mary, from sin I will refrain"
"Deliver my baby safely and keep him in your care"
"OH Mary help me quickly, my baby's almost there"

The birth was long and painful, no doctor at her side
They said it was her penance ,
The little baby died!

'
Call to prayer by the sound of a bell
Her baby was taken
she's lost in this hell
The bread is broken and held aloft
her mind is in turmoil
her brain gone soft
The smell of the wood
the polished floor
The endless work and the lock on the door

Her dreams are dead, her fate unknown
and still they taunt,
she must atone
she must kneel down
she must confess
she was born poor
she was born less


The day's, the night's, became as one
sleep eluded, the moon, the sun
she tried to work but couldn't stand
Too weak from grief
she felt the hand
"Your ******* dead! now get to toil"
"We stamped him deep in to the soil"
But in her heart she heard the Lie
She knew her son would never die
He's safe and loved in memory deep
He's in her heart, he's just asleep

She sits alone, her twilight years
her lucid thoughts are deep
She feels his tiny hand in hers
SLEEP.........Oh! perfect SLEEP



The state stood tall and washed it's hands
of all that had been done.
They buried Ellen down beside her darling newborn son
They slept a sleep, a perfect sleep, their story left untold
While evildoers in their church crouched down to hide their gold
For evil walks in all disguise
who dwell in god and men
They shook their hands and clapped their back
and saved her soul from sin

Religion is delusion and Hell was Ellen's life and Satan is the Church that caused the pain and all the strife!


In memory and salutation to all the women held against their will in the Magdline Launderies
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