Saturday 18 August 2012

Pussy Riots or Ailurophobia in Russian Life

The conviction of the three members of feminist Russian collective Pussy Riot is a disgrace and a challenge to feminism worldwide. It is also yet another attack on secularism, free speech and the rights of the artist.
Ailurophobia is the irrational fear of pussies. Or cats.

Three of the cats who stood
Iconoclastic in their ritual,
Worshipping at the alter
Of free speech, and expression,
Obscenely repressed by
The powers that be;
Three of these pussies
Are to be caged,
Declawed and toothless
In a system long decayed.

Trolleybusses and scaffolds
Are ok, it seems, for girls
In balaclavas or women shouting
The odds, but not a church,
Oh no, women’s voices should not
Be raised in a church.
It’s nothing to do with politics you understand
-it is their bold bad lack of respect for Him.
(not him, Putin, but the other
God of Russian politics.)

Burn your flags, my lovelies,
Far far better than fiery bras.
Bite back, shout and torch the churches,
Roast them on a spit of lampoon –
There is no place for the feminine divine
Among the patriarchs of Russian life.
Three cats jailed by frightened men
and an apathetic nation, still the Party’s bitch.
Come! Let’s be Hooligans, all, and light the way.
Start by saying, today, I am Pussy Riot.


Wednesday 15 August 2012

Forgiveness, Some ruminations by Maureen Aisling Duffy-Booze


Tuesday 14 August 2012

The Jester

A poem inspired by recent ruminations on Truth

I went to see the Jester in her court
she wore her tattered rags with pride, I saw
pulled at the holes and gently sighed about
the lack of courtly manners in the world.

I listened to the Jester as she sang
her words ringing hollow in the halls
"my cloak I wrap around me in great pomp"
as she pawed the ragged edges with clawed hands

I asked the Jester if she ever wore the Truth;
she eyed me like a spider eyes its prey
I say, It's not that hard a question, to be sure?
she thanks me for my visit with a smile.

I would have pressed her further if I could
she bandies words around like weaponry
forgiveness is a scalpel in her hands
and justice is an axe she likes to throw

I wouldn't trade for all the gold you offer
but the Jester is quite happy, I believe
Our reunion was a success in her eyes
She'll weave a song about it and I'll sing.