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Sam Anthony Jun 2017
I recently learned about
A Frenchman called Firmin Didot
Who invented the idea of replica parts
To speed up the accurate printing of newspapers
Its name entered the dictionary in 1850
14 years after Didot’s death
His name is now a webfont

I subsequently learned about
An American called Walter Lipmann
Who used Didot’s invention’s name
In criticism of the mass-printed newspapers
For influencing readers’ perceptions of reality
86 years after Didot’s death
The name of his invention:
The Stereotype
Sam Anthony Jul 2017
Welcome to the stage on which
Life is lived as a performance
Welcome to the office in which
Every day is a job interview, where
Work is nothing more than being looked at
And admired
And despised
And envied

Welcome to a new bank account, with
More money than anyone needs, and
More pressure than anyone deserves, to
Spend it as tabloids demand

Welcome to criticism, for clothing choices –
Too last-year
Too slutty
Too creative
Too similar to someone else
Not flattering enough
Not slutty enough
Not daring enough

Welcome to scrutiny, over
Every romantic detail
Every baby’s name
Welcome to mockery

Welcome to an opportunity to
Use your voice
Take a stand
Make a change
Welcome to pressure to
Toe the line
Stay mainstream
Take no risks

Welcome to a new form of slavery, offering
Wealth and adoration
Freedom for some and shackles for others
Welcome to a ruined, wasted life lived short of its potential –
Relationships missed
Role in the home passing by, and
A tempting, all-you-can-eat buffet of mental health issues

Welcome to a new status, to be
Cool
The centre of attention
Off trend
Forgotten

Welcome to the celebrity contradiction
Attention-grabbers, with
Demands for privacy

Welcome to someone just like
Me –
And
You
Sam Anthony Jun 2017
The grey-suited businessman
Straightens his tie
Adjusts his cufflinks
Acts professionally
Looks smart and in control
Says some wise things
Jokes about politics

He is relaxed
He is confident
He is wealthy
He commands respect
He commands envy

Until he walks through the door

He rips off his tie and sticks it on his head
He screams through the house and lifts up his kids
He kisses his beloved and thanks God for the food
The grey-suited businessman is...

-

The scruffy plumber
Rolls up his sleeves
Wipes off his sweat
Drinks a mug of tea
Crawls into dusty cupboards
Hammers and twists

He is local
He is hard-working
He is dependent
He commands no-one

Until he walks through the door

He rips off his hat and throws it in the air
He screams through the house and lifts up his kids
He kisses his beloved and thanks God for the food
The scruffy plumber is...

-

Father
Papa
Dad
Pater
Daddy
Sam Anthony Aug 2017
green sea
shifting
and squirming
light glinting
colours shifting
near-white glimmers
across near-black
light and shadow
betraying life within
and power for more
Sitting at a bus stop in Spain gave me a long time to stare into the hypnotic movement of leaves gently blowing in the breeze, allowing the sunlight to flicker beautifully.
Sam Anthony Jun 2017
Love is a funny word

I can love my wife, my friends and my kids
Willing to sacrifice my sexuality, my time and my very life
I can love a political idea, my job and my country
Willing to sacrifice friends, family and unity
And I can love sausages

Maybe the Greeks had it right to use various words
It’s hard to know the difference between
“Hiya, luv!”
“Are you alright, love?”
“This is luurve,”
and
“OH YES, I LOVE IT!”

Loving things, people, ideas and experiences
The same and different
Important and prioritised
And what unifies people as well as love?

Love is a funny word
Let’s use it some more
Sam Anthony Jul 2017
What does it mean
To be a man
Or a woman
?
Does a man
Become less male
And more female
If an accident reminiscent
Of one Lemony Snicket
Led to the removal of
One ugly piece of flesh
?
Does a woman
Become more of a woman
When the internal organs
Begin reproduction
According to the textbooks
?
Which part of
You is wrong
When there is a discrepancy
Between brain and ******
?
Or is there greater beauty
In uncertainty and ambiguity
As liberal and conservative admit
In humility, that
In truth
“I don’t know”
?
Sam Anthony Jun 2017
Is it better to get more money? Let’s say that it is.
It is better to get more money.

Is it better – for the poor – if everyone gets more money, even if that increases inequality?
Well.
The right – who think they are Right – say:

Yes. Disproportionately rewarding the wealthy with wealth creates wealth and quality of life, which the poor can now afford.

The left – who think they are Right – say:

No. Disproportionately rewarding the wealthy with wealth creates wealth and quality of life, which only the wealthy can afford.

So who is Right?
Well.
Let’s answer that question with two more questions:

What does “quality of life” mean?
Is it better to get more money?
Sam Anthony Jun 2017
Don't worry that I'm ignoring you
I ignore everyone

Don't worry that I didn't buy you a sandwich
I'm tight, that's all

Don't worry that I don't know your name when I see you every day
I'm the same with my neighbour

Don't worry that you don't go home when I do
My boss often stays late too

But then she does go home to her warm, dry bed
And your damp, cold begging spot welcomes your head
Ready for another day to be reminded that
You're less than human
When surely that title belongs to the one
Who avoided and ignored
Hoarded and stored

Surely that title belongs to me
Just like everything else

But don't worry
Sam Anthony Jun 2017
Speeding is naughty
It's against the law
But everyone does it
So no-one is ashamed

Running red lights is the same
It is naughty too
And everyone knows it
So we all sit patiently

Then Mark said to Tom
"People are inconsistent.
"Why do they speed when
"They won't go past a red?"

Tom listened carefully
He agreed with the statement
So now he drives through red lights
And the universe is angry with him
Sam Anthony Jun 2017
What was the last thing you forgot?
I thought I’d forgotten about Chumbawamba
Their song about not remembering whether they had amnesia
And discovered the reasons we forget
There are three

Sometimes the memory is simply lost
I fail to record it
I struggle to retrieve it
I lose it through the passage of time
And I may as well never have learned it

Sometimes the memory was never right
A subtle hint overwrites it
A trick of the mind confuses where I got it
A belief or assumption filters and interprets it
And surely I learn to trust my memory less

And then, of course, I could repress it
Squash it into the back of my mind
Remembering Freud’s unproven theories
Hoping that what’s left behind
Leaves me feeling more positive
I once witnessed a traffic accident and gave a statement to a police officer, who explained that what I told him was simply wrong, but that it was ok because people have false memories all the time.

This poem is based on Daniel Schacter’s Seven Sins of Memory, and I manage to get a little jab in at Freud, whose work is so influential and yet so full of speculation.
Sam Anthony Jul 2017
What’s the harm in joining with a crowd of people
United around a rainbow and a passion for equality?

If it’s true that
God Hates ****
Then we’re in real trouble
Under the colours of His great judgment on the party of depravity
Entitling the parade as
Pride
Which goes before destruction

If it’s true that
God is Love
Then let’s not be offended
There is no need for
Straight Pride Day
Unless I missed the memo
Threatening the death penalty for love and marriage

Is it not the case that the driver for Gay Pride
Is that some are treated differently, judged by their inside
When the rest of humanity can step up and take Pride
In their efforts and achievements, and not what they confide
In their most trusted friends so as to dodge that stereotype?

So why has the parade become the world’s greatest collection
Of the loudest, brashest versions of the most extreme ideas
When almost every gay person I know is almost disappointingly…
Normal?

My Gay-Proudest moment was when I gave a job
To an LGBT chairman, who stood out from the crowd
Not because of his leaning and not because of pity
But for being the best fit and better-skilled than the rest

The Day on which we can be
Gayest and Proudest
Will be the day when there’s no need
For Gay Pride Day
Gay Pride Day has such a polarising effect on people, and the story told in the media seems to be either one of hatred against homosexuality or passionate love for the parade. I'm all for equality and I'm not convinced that perfectly normal men dressing up in the twinkliest ball gowns does much to help those filled with hate to realise that being gay doesn't have to be A Thing.
Sam Anthony Jul 2017
Slow peek
Whiskers twitch
Pause
Little twitch
Nostrils flare
Pause
-
Immediate acceleration
Straight-ahead scurry
Speedy tick-tack of claws on hard floor
Cat appears
Screechy scratchy panic spinner
Ducking skidding
Heart racing
Slalom chair legs
Cat crashing, collapsing
Running home hungry
Barely in time
-
Re-prepare to retry
Sam Anthony Jul 2017
You’re telling a story of a recent holiday
It reminds me of a funny joke I know about a panda with a penchant for French bread
I launch into it, enjoying your company, engaged in the action
But midway through speaking I stop
-
The scorpion that just appeared on the table is huge
Poison-filled tail arched over its back
It opens its mouth, revealing three rows of teeth
And prepares itself to strike your hand
I want to yell out but I’m frozen in dread
You seem more concerned about me than yourself
No, not concerned – confused
Can’t you see it, the creature right there on the
On the–
-
It’s gone, like the others have before
Back to the secret place in my brain
I know they’re not real
Or, I know they’re not real until I see them again
-
I try to return to the joke I had started but now you’re distracted
You make your excuses – not bad ones, I’ve had worse – and leave
Leave me to the voice of The Reminder
Who tells me once more that they’re coming to get me
They’ve not caught me yet but it won’t take them long
Sam Anthony Aug 2017
The alien’s ears listen intently
Every syllable landing deftly
Caught between listening and hearing
He struggles to comprehend their meaning
It's like getting lost in a thick forest
It's dark and lonely, in a crowded house
Familiar words like brief glimpses of daylight on a cloudy day
Meaning hidden behind feverish incomprehensibility
Meaning in every word for the speakers
Every meaning for the speakers in those words
The tool for comprehension and its greatest barrier
Sam Anthony Jun 2017
When nights grow long and lights fall dim
The pale moonlight casts a fine shadow
‘Cross the pathways in front of the grand cathedral
And behind the tree in Helen’s Meadow
To set our scene anew once more

Mothers and fathers draw children close,
Gathered before the friendly fire
The Tale bubbles forth from long-worn thoughts,
Words strung and sung to the oft-plucked lyre
Wise words from rough tongues to desperate ears

Just one warm home sees silence then
Its riches a veil to hide bleak sorrow
For The Tale long told holds secrets dear
To the hearts of yesterday and tomorrow
And pierces today's with a vice-like grip

The daughter of Walter stares into the fire
Its crackling embers a restless reminder
Of Grandfather Friedrich, the gods-fearing Knight
And Grandmother Helen - his quest to find her
And doom-laden journey it turned out to be

The rumours of dragons had plagued Olde Vorlund
For decades before the armies marched in
Their crests aflame with glorious colours,
Their fanfare a growing, melodious din,
A cacophany borne of love and blood

Atop his throne, bedecked in red robes
The mighty King Halred announced loud and clear
“Behold! A call to all men of Vorlund
“Hear this, mighty warriors from far and from near
“This offer, unique in its time, is for you.”

The men of Olde Vorlund gathered around
Their listening ears silenced anxious hearts
King Halred drew breath, his standard raised high
Anticipation and fear in equal parts
As he opened his mouth to speak

“Our kingdom’s treasure,” his voice rang true
“Is stolen by bandits from the Northern Wastes
“I call on our bravest to arm themselves
“And travel abroad to that cursed place
“To retrieve what is rightfully ours.”

The eyes of the gathered remained fixed on Halred
Not daring to dart to the left or the right
The danger, now felt here, of bloodthirsty pagans
Made fully grown men crave for fear of the night
Or torture in dungeons at home

REWARD, read the image hung from the Great Hall
Finding the treasure not only for glory
The warrior who would restore Vorlund’s wealth
Would inherit a title, lands and a story
Sung by bards at home and abroad

Eight men approached Halred, on bended knee
Offering service to the gods’ chosen leader
Armed and armoured by the best in the land
And gifted a horse from Vorlund’s finest *******
To take them far north and away from home

The names of The Eight are remembered in legend:
Grimwold and Stafn, the brothers in white
Falki, the trickster, determined to conquer
Friedrich, as calm as a cool autumn night
And Bekan, the selfish and greedy hunchback

Olde Vorlund women grieved as Bolli left town
While Dyri and Kali told jokes to each other
The Eight dressed and ready set north all together
While sweet lilting songs caught the ears of the mother
Of each man, a dirge drifting into the night

The Eight crossed countryside fair and rough
Young Kali was first to meet his end;
A bear thought nothing of gripping his head
And ripping his life away from his friend
And Dyri lost hope on the road soon after

The next whose clock struck was beautiful Bolli
A one-handed brute beat his head with a club
After Bolli took single-armed’s wife to his bed
Then cared not to carefully tidy his mess up
Bolli’s bed now has been made in the ground

The Five now remaining approached the Wastes
Expectant to loot and return Halred’s treasure
Bekan crept onward to rob from the robbers
The length of his life met the end of its measure
And Four woke that day without knowledge of how

Grimwold and Stafn, the brave pair of brothers
Led Friedrich and Falki towards Bandit Town
Atop a near ridge they hollered their war cry
Fear entered the village as they bellowed down
One half of the bandits retreated that day

The battle that followed was swift, fierce and ******
Six hundred the number that met death that night
Among them was Falki, whose creeping and sneaking
Worked wonders until he tripped into a fight
And lost both of his hands before losing his life

The brothers in white and Friedrich the younger
Cared not to stop fighting while the sun did not shine
By morning the sight of the town was burnt crimson
The blood of the bandits caught up with spilt wine
And burned-out log cabins in every direction

The treasure was gone, like it never existed
An empty town holding now one lonely crone
Who said that the treasure had passed three days’ north
Ulred the barbarian’s treasure hoard grown
Stolen again by that fearful monster

The Three from Olde Vorlund resolved to continue
Tracking the man with his ill-gotten hoard
Across barren plains and through thick forests
They followed him, tugging his faintly-laid cord
Closing to grasp at the glory ahead

After one noon they discovered a strong trail
Signs of a scuffle there clear on the path
Excited, the Three embraced and moved onward
Ready to face the Barbarian’s wrath
And eager to grasp what was stolen at first

The opening glimpse of their quarry shook the Three
The lone-acting Ulred was less than alone
A lady in chains paced in time by his side
A beautiful maiden he’d made for his own
A desperate soul for the Three to redeem

The brothers in white found it hard to resist
They leapt out at Ulred, their swords in their hands
His legend stood firm as his axe found its mark
And both fell at once, their blood feeding the land
The Barbarian roared in a victory scream

And Friedrich, alone, hid behind a grey boulder
Showing no fear as he planned what to do
Gathering his wits, he took one final look
And paused as his eyes opened wide as a flue
For his sight was not filled with Ulred alone

The great dragon landed, the ground gave a shudder
Brave Ulred stood firm, caught with no chance to choose
As Friedrich looked on, the grand lizard attacked
In minutes the strong man lay bleeding and bruised
And a firm stamping foot ended one more great saga

The dragon, distracted by the screaming girl
Ignored the great treasure hoard piled on the cart
In one taloned claw he grabbed hold of his prey
And flapped his wings gracefully, using his art
And leaving young Friedrich to claim what was sought

But Friedrich cared not for the infinite bounty
For what can great wealth be when won at such cost?
He mounted his steed and stared straight at the dragon
They started at speed before the trail was lost
And Friedrich prepared himself to die that day

The dragon swooped low as they approached the sea
Protecting its prisoner by skirting the cliffs
Diving away, it took stock of the cliffside
And headed directly past massive sand drifts
Into a cave set below a large rock

Friedrich dismounted and leapt down the cliffside
Bare hand by bare hand he descended bravely
Arriving at the cave mouth within minutes
He paused for a moment, considering gravely
How he could save his dream lady at last

Grabbing dark moss from the base of the white cliffs
He covered himself, dressing up as a bush
He crept into the dark, every movement so dainty
Each step requiring his body to push
And holding his breath to protect his fair maiden

The cave was so deep and the tunnels so winding
Lost in the dark, blindly following the trail
At long last he saw her, ******* in the corner
The dragon had left her in his self-made gaol
And Friedrich strode up to her, one aim in mind

He released her so quickly, she collapsed in his arms
“My saviour!” she whispered in gratitude and love
In great need of rest, she pulled Friedrich close
And one night of passion settled from above
And Friedrich and Helen became one that night

As morning drew near, Friedrich woke with a start
The dragon was back and was roaring with rage
He woke up dear Helen, took her onto his back
And ran back to sunlight to take centre stage
To face down this great beast who threatened his wife

He pushed Helen upwards and onto his horse
Determined to fight off the awesome monster
From the top of the cliff he saw only one option
As the dragon looked upward
Friedrich looked down
And he brandished his axes
And leapt off the cliff
And struck true through the dragon
Saving his Helen
And plunging to death

Helen stared at the scene that unfolded below her
Distraught at the death of her only true love
Then she picked herself up and resolved to complete
The mission her Friedrich had finished part of
And she started her mount towards Ulred’s grave

She returned to the spot where the dragon had grabbed her
And looked at the treasure that Friedrich had sought
She picked up an apple and carefully planted
A tree to remember him of whom she thought
He who gave up his life so that she might live

The Tree of Friedrich still stands to this day
In Helen’s Meadow, not far from the sea
And their memory remains in tales and song
But words are not all of this couple we see
For that passionate night led to more than one seed

Helen took all the treasure and raised up an army
Who stormed Olde Vorlund for all it was worth
Then as Queen, nine months later, a new son was born
And the bloodline of Friedrich continues each birth
Ruling the people with justice and mercy

So here ends our tale of sorrow and hope
Of a brave young man who gave up his life
And as children today think of all that he did
They forget everything that they feel causes strife
And remember that love, faith and hope rule the day
This isn't as long as I really wanted it to be.
Sam Anthony Aug 2017
Look at me!
No, not at ME. Look at me.
Look at my smart shoes and carefully matched belt.
Look at my tailored suit, custom lining and fitted shirt.
Look at my intelligent tie and newsworthy socks.
Look at my beautifully groomed face, hands and hair.
Look at me, and respect ME.
But whatever you do, don't look at ME.

— The End —