Society & Injustice
Verses that speak truth to power — tackling inequality, politics, and the systems that fail us. These are poems of protest, satire, and the will to make things right.
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The Tools Around Me
The tools around us have changed, but creativity has always been human. A spoken-word reflection on AI, accessibility, expression, and the voices that still exist beneath the noise.
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Manners (Out of Stock)
It’s the little things you notice when they’re no longer there.
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Who Gives a Crap?
Author’s note: This one wasn’t planned.It just came out—somewhere between frustration with the world and trying to hold myself together within it.There’s a line in here that’s very real, and a moment I didn’t expect to share—but it felt important to leave it in.Sometimes we carry more than people realise.And sometimes, it only takes a voice from the past to unravel everything. Who gives a crap? Who gives a crap about some orange-tinted “Master Chief”playing war like it’s Halo?Everybody – or so it seems. Who gives a crap about the ongoing battle in Ukraine,still quietly burning in the background?Nobody – the algorithm moved on.Slava Ukraine. Who gives a crap about…
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Held
it’s just a thought.One small idea.Barely formed. Something I swallowbecause it’s easierthan explaining again. It sits behind the teeth.Under the tongue.Polite.Contained. I tell myself:“It’s almost time.”That the silence will stop.That waitingdoesn’t cost anything. The world lovesthis version of me.The quiet one.The reasonable one.The one who understandsthe process. So I wait. And while I waitthe voice doesn’t disappear –it presses. It becomes a weight in the chest.Tightness.A currentlooking for a way through. Because a voicecannot be pausedwithout consequence. What happens insteadis that it flows inward.Every unspoken wordadds pressure.Every delayed answerraises the waterline. Still,they don’t hear it. They say I’m calm.They say I’m coping.They saynothing looks wrong. They mistake restraintfor consent. But…
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What You Don’t See (But Refuse to Notice)
A sequence Author’s Note: This sequence is drawn from lived experience of navigating public space, healthcare, and transport as a disabled couple. It is not written to invite sympathy, but to demand attention — particularly to the moments where voices are ignored, time is rushed, and need is mistaken for inconvenience. The poems speak in more than one voice because life does. I. What You Don’t See (But Refuse to Notice) On the outsideI’m fine.Standing.Breathing.Passing. Inside, everything hurtsfrom being held togetherfor your comfort. One wintry evening at Chester StationI had to shout.Not because I wanted to.Because no one moved. A crowd pressed in,eyes forward,bags wide,space guarded like property. I raised…
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40 Minutes
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Wyt ti’n gwrando?
Mae’r byd yn llawn sŵn — ond ai dyna’r broblem?
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Who Gives a Crap?
What You Don’t See (But Refuse to Notice)
Robin Hood in Reverse?
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Robin Hood in Reverse?
A councillor spoke, bold and brash, “Rob Peter for Paul, take more in cash!” But take from the poor to give to the rich? Seems like he’s lost the plot—a real bait-and-switch. Our roads are crumbling, streets unsafe, Toilets shut or vandal’s waif. Schools left begging for staff and supplies, While doctors and dentists wave their goodbyes. A glasshouse rises, all shiny and grand, Yet shops sit empty across the land.Colwyn Bay’s lost its heart and soul, Taxed out of business—an empty shell whole. So here’s my plea, if you truly care, Give back your allowance—show us you’re fair.Meet your people, hear their cries, See the world through struggling eyes. But don’t raise tax—we’re stretched too thin, Austerity’s…
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A Bone to Pick
I’ve got a bone to pick with this world today, Where kindness fades and ego plays. Selfish minds, sharp tongues, quick hands, Spinning drama, making demands. It’s not your business, not your fight, Not your pot to stir at night. Yet here you stand, nose stuck in, Feeding the flames, thick as sin. Once, respect was something real, Hard work, strong hands on the wheel. No clicks, no likes, no viral fame, No need to make life one big game. But now the kind are dying out, And even the elders scream and shout. What happened to grace? To dignity’s place? Now all we see is a ruthless race. I’m tired of labels, of broken rules, Of people pretending…
