Adrian Mitchell
Adrian Mitchell Poems
Arms trade workers, here's an early warning
You might wake up tomorrow morning
And find that this is the glorious day
...
look at your hands
your beautiful useful hands
you're not an ape
you're not a parrot
...
I dreamed I was back in the playground, I was about four feet high
Yes I dreamed I was back in the playground, standing about four feet high
Well the playground was three miles long and the playground was five miles wide
It was broken black tarmac with a high wire fence all around
Broken black dusty tarmac with a high fence running all around
And it had a special name to it, they called it The Killing Ground
Got a mother and a father they're one thousand years away
The rulers of the Killing Ground are coming out to play
Everybody thinking: ‘Who they going to play with today?'
Well you get it for being Jewish
And you get it for being black
You get it for being chicken
And you get it for fighting back
You get it for being big and fat
Get it for being small
Oh those who get it get it and get it
For any damn thing at all
Sometimes they take a beetle, tear off its six legs one by one
Beetle on its black back, rocking in the lunchtime sun
But a beetle can't beg for mercy, a beetle's not half the fun
I heard a deep voice talking, it had that iceberg sound
‘It prepares them for Life' - but I have never found
Any place in my life worse than The Killing Ground.
...
At the top of the stairs
I ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.
...
Lovers lie around in it
Broken glass is found in it
Grass
I like that stuff
Tuna fish get trapped in it
Legs come wrapped in it
Nylon
I like that stuff
Eskimos and tramps chew it
Madame Tussaud gave status to it
Wax
I like that stuff
Elephants get sprayed with it
Scotch is made with it
Water
I like that stuff
Clergy are dumbfounded by it
Bones are surrounded by it
Flesh
I like that stuff
Harps are strung with it
Mattresses are sprung with it
Wires
I like that stuff
Carpenters make cots of it
Undertakers use lots of it
Wood
I like that stuff
Cigarettes are lit by it
Pensioners are happy when they sit by it
Fire
I like that stuff
Dankworth's alto is made of it, most of it,
Scoobeedo is composed of it
Plastic
I like that stuff
Apemen take it to make them hairier
I ate a ton of it in Bulgaria
Yoghurt
I like that stuff
Man-made fibres and raw materials
Old rolled gold and breakfast cereals
Platinum linoleum
I like that stuff
Skin on my hands
Hair on my head
Toenails on my feet
And linen on my bed
Well I like that stuff
Yes I like that stuff
The earth
Is made of earth
And I like that stuff
...
Look at those naked words dancing together!
Everyone's very embarrassed.
Only one thing to do about it -
Off with your clothes
And join in the dance.
Naked words and people dancing together.
There's going to be trouble.
Here come the Poetry Police!
Keep dancing.
...
look at your hands
your beautiful useful hands
you're not an ape
you're not a parrot
you're not a slow loris
or a smart missile
you're human
not british
not american
not israeli
not palestinian
you're human
not catholic
not protestant
not muslim
not hindu
you're human
we all start human
we end up human
human first
human last
we're human
or we're nothing
nothing but bombs
and poison gas
nothing but guns
and torturers
nothing but slaves
of Greed and War
if we're not human
look at your body
with its amazing systems
of nerve-wires and blood canals
think about your mind
which can think about itself
and the whole universe
look at your face
which can freeze into horror
or melt into love
look at all that life
all that beauty
you're human
they are human
we are human
let's try to be human
dance!
...
It was like keeping a puppy in your underpants
A secret puppy you weren't allowed to show to anyone
Not even your best friend or your worst enemy
You wanted to pat him stroke him cuddle him
All the time but you weren't supposed to touch him
He only slept for five minutes at a time
Then he'd suddenly perk up his head
In the middle of school medical inspection
And always on bus rides
So you had to climb down from the upper deck
All bent double to smuggle the puppy off the bus
Without the buxom conductress spotting
Your wicked and ticketless stowaway.
Jumping up, wet-nosed, eagerly wagging -
He only stopped being a nuisance
When you were alone together
Pretending to be doing your homework
But really gazing at each other
Through hot and hazy daydreams
Of those beautiful schoolgirls on the bus
With kittens bouncing in their sweaters.
...
I was run over by the truth one day.
Ever since the accident I've walked this way
So stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam.
Heard the alarm clock screaming with pain,
Couldn't find myself so I went back to sleep again
So fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam.
Every time I shut my eyes all I see is flames.
Made a marble phone book and I carved all the names
So coat my eyes with butter
Fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam.
I smell something burning, hope it's just my brains.
They're only dropping peppermints and daisy-chains
So stuff my nose with garlic
Coat my eyes with butter
Fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam.
Where were you at the time of the crime?
Down by the Cenotaph drinking slime
So chain my tongue with whisky
Stuff my nose with garlic
Coat my eyes with butter
Fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies about Vietnam.
You put your bombers in, you put your conscience out,
You take the human being and you twist it all about
So scrub my skin with women
Chain my tongue with whisky
Stuff my nose with garlic
Coat my eyes with butter
Fill my ears with silver
Stick my legs in plaster
Tell me lies, tell me lies about Aghanistan.
Tell me lies about Israel.
Tell me lies about Congo.
Tell me, tell me lies Mr Bush.
Tell me lies Mr B-B-Blair, Brown, Blair-Brown.
Tell me lies about Vietnam.
...
My Mother and Father died some years ago
I loved them very much.
When they died my love for them
Did not vanish or fade away.
It stayed just about the same,
Only a sadder colour.
And I can feel their love for me,
Same as it ever was.
Nowadays, in good times or bad,
I sometimes ask my Mother and Father
To walk beside me or to sit with me
So we can talk together
Or be silent.
They always come to me.
I talk to them and listen to them
And think I hear them talk to me.
It's very simple -
Nothing to do with spiritualism
Or religion or mumbo jumbo.
It is imaginary.
It is real.
It is love.
...
Telephone told me that you were dead
Now I hate every telephone's stupid head
I'd rather sit here turning to a block of stone
Than pick up any snake of a telephone
...
for Boty
especially when it snows
and every tree
has its dark arms and widespread hands
full of that shining angelfood
especially when it snows
and every footprint
makes a dark lake
among the frozen grass
especially when it snows darling
and tough little robins
beg for crumbs
at golden-spangled windows
ever since we said goodbye to you
in that memorial garden
where nothing grew
except the beautiful blank-eyed snow
and little Caitlin crouched to wave goodbye to you
down in the shadows
especially when it snows
and keeps on snowing
especially when it snows
and down the purple pathways of the sky
the planet staggers like King Lear
with his dead darling in his arms
especially when it snows
and keeps on snowing
...
When man first flew beyond the sky
He looked back into the world's blue eye.
Man said: What makes your eye so blue?
Earth said: The tears in the ocean do.
Why are the seas so full of tears?
Because I've wept so many thousand years.
Why do you weep as you dance through space?
Because I am the mother of the human race.
...
Truth is a diamond
A diamond is hard
You don't exist
Without a Barclaycard
Sorry bout that
Sorry bout that
Even South African cops
Do the sorry bout that
They showed me the world and said:
What do you think?
I said: Half about women
And half about drink
And I'm sorry bout that
Sorry bout that
Mother I need that booze
And I'm sorry bout that
But if you cut your conscience
Into Kenno-meat chunks
You could get elected
To the House of Drunks
Sorry bout that
Sorry bout that
You'll never have to think again
And I'm sorry bout that
You can do the Skull
Or the Diplomat
But I do a dance
Called the Sorry Bout That
Do the Mighty Whitey
Or the Landlord Rat
But I'll keep grooving,
To the Sorry Bout That
Sorry Bout That
Sorry bout that
They make me dance with pistols and ten to one
I'm sorry bout that
Hey Johnny Betjeman
Where you been?
Down Buckingham Pigstye
With Princess Margarine
Sorry bout that
Sorry bout that
Bop goes my knighthood
Pretty Jesus but I'm sorry bout that
I saw Money walking
Down the road
Claws like an eagle
And a face like a toad
Well I know your name baby
Seen you before
Slapping on your make-up
For the Third World War
Sorry bout that
Sorry bout that
Someone set the world on fire
And I'm sorry bout that.
...
Adrian Mitchell Biography
Adrian Mitchell (24 October 1932 – 20 December 2008) was an English poet, novelist and playwright. A former journalist, he became a noted figure on the British Left. For almost half a century he was the foremost poet of the country's anti-Bomb movement. The critic Kenneth Tynan called him the British Mayakovsky. Mitchell sought in his work to counteract the implications of his own assertion that, "Most people ignore most poetry because most poetry ignores most people." In a National Poetry Day poll in 2005 his poem "Human Beings" was voted the one most people would like to see launched into space. In 2002 he was nominated, semi-seriously, Britain's Shadow Poet Laureate. Mitchell was for some years poetry editor of the New Statesman, and was the first to publish an interview with The Beatles. His work for the Royal Shakespeare Company included Peter Brook's US and the English version of Peter Weiss's Marat/Sade. Ever inspired by the example of his own favourite poet and precursor William Blake, about whom he wrote the acclaimed Tyger for the National Theatre, his often angry output swirled from anarchistic anti-war satire, through love poetry to, increasingly, stories and poems for children. He also wrote librettos. The Poetry Archive identified his creative yield as hugely prolific. The Times said that Mitchell's had been a "forthright voice often laced with tenderness." His poems on such topics as nuclear war, Vietnam, prisons and racism had become "part of the folklore of the Left. His work was often read and sung at demonstrations and rallies.")
The Best Poem Of Adrian Mitchell
To All In The So-Called Defence Industry
Arms trade workers, here's an early warning
You might wake up tomorrow morning
And find that this is the glorious day
When all your jobs will just melt away
Because the people of the world are going to make sure
There'll be no more, no more, no more war
So now's the time to switch your occupation
From dealing in death and desolation
Don't hang around now you've been told
The international murder trade's about to fold
You won't have to maim, you won't have to kill,
You can use your brain and use your skill.
Peace needs workers of all kinds-
Make artificial limbs instead of landmines.
Tricycles instead of tridents,
Violins instead of violence,
Lifeboats, hospitals, medicine, drains,
Food and toys and buses and trains-
Come on, there's plenty of work to be done
If we're going to make peace for everyone.
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4/23/2024 9:49:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I plagarised part of a poem of Adrians when I was about 10 years old. It was for a poetry competition. Most Adults are stupid. Naturally I won. My father grew suspicious when other parents said 'your childs a genius'.My father forced me to confess. He wrote to Adrian to beg forgiveness on my behalf. Adrian wrote back 'all writers do it. I take it as a compliment'.Age 50 now, I select one of his poems 'Death is smaller than I thought' to read at my mums funeral.