KENNY MacASKILL relishes a fictionalised account of the life and death of the principled Irish anti-colonialist, executed for betraying his English imperial masters
by Christopher Norris
Shabana Mahmood, that’s my name,
Grew up here, second gen;
Mum, Dad did well, but all the same
They landed way back when.
It’s folk like them I hold to blame
For coming now, not then.
I tell them: “Tough luck, it’s a shame,
But off you go again!”.
I’ve got my stake in Starmer’s game,
Developed quite a yen
For striking out each parent’s claim
With my resentful pen.
Think what your little girl became –
Not one more broody hen,
But scourge-in-chief marked out for fame
Amongst his hatchet-men!
I’ve fixed it so’s to skew your aim
And see that “citizen”
Stays one proud item Dad can’t frame:
Get lost, you alien!
Chris Norris is a Swansea-based poet, philosopher and singer with Cor Cochion Caerdydd
ANDY CROFT welcomes the publication of an anthology of recent poems published by the Morning Star, and hopes it becomes an annual event
The Bard commutes to work for the first time in 45 years
The Labour Party proposal to scrap benefits for those unable to work will be debated in Parliament next Tuesday, and threatens the most vulnerable in our society. ALAN MORRISON presents some responses in poetry


