ALAN MORRISON guides us through the richly descriptive and accessible poetry of a notable British-Irish poet
Warming up for his Durham gig, the bard pays attention to the niceties of language
A DIFFERENT sort of column this week.
Words are my currency and language is important. If words are misused, weaponised or euphemised, they start to lose their meaning and therefore their power — and when that happens we are all in trouble. I want to give you very different examples of this in verse.
Firstly: as an anti-fascist and anti-racist it breaks my heart to see the incredibly powerful word “anti-semitic” thrown around like confetti by the far-right government of Israel. In my opinion they are devaluing the term in a way which insults the memory of the Holocaust victims and turns the word for a heinous and unspeakable crime into a general insult applied to anyone who criticises them. This is tragic and very dangerous. Anti-semitism is very specific.
DICTIONARY DEFINITION
Our language must have meaning
to be any use at all —
If you take away that meaning
then the truth goes to the wall.
If you’re antisemitic,
it means you hate all Jews.
Yes, every single one of them,
not just those in the news.
You loathe them for existing,
not for what they do or say.
The left wing ones, the right wing ones,
at work or rest or play.
It’s not about their actions,
their thoughts, their aspirations.
This really should be made quite clear
at the United Nations.
And on a completely different tack, the concept of assisted dying has been the subject of much debate recently, inside and outside the Houses of Parliament. Here I contrast the absolutely justified soul searching applied to the introduction of the measure as usually understood, with the blithe acceptance of its literal meaning throughout human history in the context of that well known epithet: ‘War is an continuation of politics by other means.
ASSISTED DYING
Assisted dying is an abomination
a desecration of the human spirit
an insult to Life itself
No civilised society should tolerate it
and measures should be put in place
to ensure those who advocate it
in their media
and profit from it
in their factories
are removed from circulation
and humanely restrained
in specialist “gamer” facilities
where they can indulge their fantasies
in endless video battles
without harm to wider society.
I am of course
not talking about those who wish
to end their own lives
at the time of their own choosing
in dignity and peace
surrounded by those they love —
with proper safeguards
that should be their sovereign choice —
but about those who wish
to end others’ lives
way before their time
in the terror of war
or the war of terror
alone and defenceless
surrounded by those they fear
and screaming for their mothers
in the name of profit, or country,
or prophet, or god.
On to happier things. Yesterday I was honoured to be invited to Durham (alongside wonderful young singer-songwriter Jess Silk) to be part of the entertainment at the pre-Gala gig organised by Durham NEU. Today I shall be taking part in the Durham Miners’ Gala itself, a wonderful celebration of working-class history and culture at its best.
And I shall be honouring the memory of Durham Miners’ Association president Davey Hopper, who invited me to be the after-dinner speaker at a pre-Gala event some years ago and, most memorably, to be the entertainment at the party he held at Easington colliery club on the day of Thatcher’s funeral. That was some day!
I’ll also be thinking of Barry Chambers, a DMA legend in his own right, as I share a few pints with his son Ronnie, whom I’ve known for many years. The event is the best possible riposte to Reform, who have sadly taken Durham County Council with their billionaire-sponsored division and lies, profiting from the Labour leadership’s abject refusal to govern in the interests of the people who brought the party into being.
Horrendous times. But, as the wonderful Muddy Summers and the Dirty Field Whores put it:
“Yeah yeah it’s all shit
But some of us are trying to plant roses in it”
And we’re not going anywhere.

The bard plays Clacton Arts Centre, a miraculous venue that cannot be closed because it is an idea built on hope

The bard and his muse urge you to support and replenish the people’s history

The bard gives us advance notice of his upcoming medieval K-pop releases

The bard mourns the loss of comrades and troubadours, and looks for consolation with Black Country Jess