Poems tagged ‘Racism’

Black and Blue (for Paul Canoville)

As the boos rang out at the Riverside
I remembered my team’s
first black player
coming on as sub in the 80s,
the storm of hate from the Shed.

The shock and anguish I felt,
wondering if I could continue
to follow the Blues.
Of course, somehow, I did.
Football’s coming home?

They’re still out there, they haven’t
gone away, these ‘patriots’
who barrack their national team
before a European tournament,
before they’ve even kicked off.

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Malignant Cancer.

Straight up I expected to be behind
When I pressed Red Button on T.V
Of late our defence, not to be unkind
Seems as resolute as a sieve.

Listening to JJ in the Five Live studio
Passing comment on the game
I caught a vocal South West London braggadocio
Prevalent in the back-ground, down at White Hart Lane.

What with wrapping presents
Cleaning the oven, and brewing pots o tea
I didn’t catch the gist of JJ’s comments
On the incidents he could see.

Seeing we were two nil up
I composed a flippant text
Texted it to all me pals and those I Love
In the short verse coming next…

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way
Oh what fun, it is to win two nil at Spurs away.

Then…the malignant cancer in modern day society,
and I don’t give a toss for what the politicians say?
Quite rightly became the main talking point of football on T.V
During Sunday evenings Match of The Day.


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Kick It Out Rap (2019 Remix )

there has to be a space there has to be a place
for every single member of the human race
staring at a problem that hasn’t gone away
underneath the suface it’s lingering today
kick it out.. ignore it but report it
kick it… together we can sort it
kick it out.. let them know the reason why
kick it out ..time for racism to die
kick it out

it kicks off in the playground it kicks off in the park
it kicks off when you’re heading home it kicks off in the dark
it kicks off on the playing field in the rain and thunder
it kicks off and you hear but maybe you’re outnumbered
all-seater stadiums tiny little grounds
anywhere on the street still hear the sound
kick it out …. time for racism to die
kick it out….. rap the culprits in the eye
Kick it out … be a beacon be a light
speak out… let your football burn bright
kick it out

you can sing it you can wing it you can act it out in class
you can trap it you can rap it before the feelings pass
’cause no-one has the right to abuse any other
no one has the right be they stranger or brother
no one has the right to bully or to yell
no one should be frightened to be the one to tell
go back thirty years if your face was black
out there on the pitch they’d be on your back
take a look around you from Africa today
great players everywhere we love to see them play
and ev’ry time you’re out there doing what you do
make a choice be a voice feel it coming through
kick it out – be a poem be a cry
kick it out – time for racism to die
kick it out

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Kick It Out

Banana skin thrown
and racial abuse,
so ban the culprits
just no excuse.
Football’s not about colour
it’s supporting your side,
throw out the Neanderthals​
give them nowhere to hide.
It’s called The Beautiful Game
for all colours and creed,
no room for these bigots
so please take heed.
Any abuse is ugly
but sadly it’s still about,
so all decent fans join together
and let us all Kick It Out!

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Larbi Ben Mbarek: The forgotten genius

The first to strike gold in Europe
Was that famous Black Pearl
Fondly known as Benbarek
To others the Moroccan Earl

El Ouatane aged fourteen
Honed the Black Pearl’s stealth
Two Spanish titles for El Prodigio
Order of Merit after his death

Forty three goals for Stade Français
As Larbi walked the walk
Fifty six as Spain’s Perla Negra
La perle noir du Maroc

From twenty Francs a day
An Iberian prince at Marseille
The first ever “black pearl”
Very high praise from Pele

Eight goals against Southend
A first French cap against Italy
War loomed and Larbi went home
With the arrival of the Nazi

French journalists raged in despair
When Atletico signed a cheque
One wrote; ‘Sell the Eiffel Tower,
But not Ben Barek’

Idéal Club Casablanca and US Marocaine
Stade Français adding spice
Atlético Madrid Los Rojiblancos
Where Larbi won La Liga twice

Nineteen caps for Les Bleus no myth
Danced on dictator Franco’s deck
Bel-Abbès and a stadium named
For Haj Abdelkader Larbi Ben M’barek

© emdad rahman

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Because My Skin Is White

round here it’s pretty middle class so many are secure
but underneath our sleepy town so many aren’t for sure
in frightened nights on Hackney streets it’s harsher than we know
with drugs and knives and ruined lives as racism still flows
I go back to my London roots it serves me to remind
this racism’s still dripping there from ev’ry place and sign
my best mates skins were different when I was a kid
Indian and African but oh what things we did
hanging out on bomb sites I see them looking back
the signs in Notting Hill that read no Irish Dogs or Blacks
too young then to understand the fifties that we shared
or what they must have gone through such hatred ev’rywhere
we had no concepts out at play for class or race back then
I wore cardboard in my shoes when I was nine or ten
yet still I was a millionaire compared to those who fight
enduring stuff I never knew because my skin is white

I’ve stood by shanty villages the corrugated homes
so far from my beloved Stroud where rich folk sit and moan
a bit of this a bit of that I’ve led a crazy life
while way out in Zimbabwe they struggle to survive
and out in Ethiopia however much it’s changed
corruption thrives thfroughout their lives in our midst the same
I work with bands from Africa I try to shed some light
it’s sometimes met with apathy because my skin is white

l lived through their apartheid I did the best I could
It all sounds hypocritical I always knew it would
I got on buses with my friends all Indian and Bantu
authorities would say to me just use white buses can’t you?
a poet’s life is strange it’s true but nowhere near as hard
as those with houses made on sand or tin in some back yard
thank god I leave my cottage to see the other side
I try to do the do the best I can because my skin is white

I’ve lived in places without loos I’ve tended goats and herbs
I’ve wheeled the dead from hospitals I’ve never heard the words
that those whose skin is darker hear from those who jeer and scorn
a child a woman or a man because of how they’re born
I’ve been ashamed by my own kind when racist chants were slung
at football or out in the streeet but nothing’s ever done
I’m so apalled inside to know that even in this town
the evil fuel of racism is still here to be found
I thought that I could change the world my hopes have never dropped
we must destroy this ignorance this racism must stop
we have the choice to be a voice to exercise our right
it’s not enough to be ashamed because our skin is white

I never had a father my mother worked in clubs
my step-dad beat me up sometimes and died outside the pub
I’ve drummed in poor black orphan homes in Africa and wept
I’ve seen the sadness and contempt for all that I project
it doesn’t matter what you say or what you did before
we’re still the rich colonialists just like we were before
our little poems and our songs our witty little words
we need the world to stand as one to get this message heard
it doesn’t matter what you do however good or right
your heart is never visible because your skin is white

we say we’re multi-cultural at Womad in the sun
our Guardians and Chardonnays our “must be home by one”
our four by fours our phones and homes our ever-greedy stars
our longing for celebrity the glamour and the cars
our eco-friendly pseudo words we’re so-aware today
we think we’ve conquered racism it never went away
wherever we go ego goes we run this human race
we’re up our arses aren’t we we live in such a space
it doesn’t matter how you try to justify your days
reality is ‘me me me’ where love is just a phase
however hard you think your life you don’t look far to see
you’re richer than you ever knew or ever dreamed you’d be
far richer than the millions there who die each day and night
whatever class we’re all the same because our skin is white

you put on bands and poetry for every cause you know
they turn around and point at you and tell you where to go
you try to stay so humble they say you are aloof
while leaders lie you try and try to hold onto the truth
we walk round with eyes closed our acting hides our fears
we move to pictures on our screens we watch it through the tears
we say we’ll try until we die we think we’re so PC
you tell me what you did today for some new charity
but still we have a job to do we all can make a stand
the silly sixties dream I had restore it to this land
awaken now it’s been too long it’s time to see the light
I won’t give up I have no choice because my skin is white..

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Source: https://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/racism/