Monday, 9 April 2012

Cultural Mixing Pot

Some are the meat
and some are the spice
and some don't contribute anything nice,

because some are black
and some are white
(but most are actually mixed).

Because race is not something fixed,
not like a boxing match:
the sliding scale is never static,
our blood a contaminated batch.

Because some are the rice
and some are the peas
and some are the naan
and some are the spuds,

but most of us are the rub,
and some of us the salt -
a pinch, violence a cinch,
to sting fresh wounds without thought.

Because to all of us this is England:
no one's land, 'our land', embarrass land,
beauty land, dead land, life land, homeland,

up-for-grabs land, to-be-had land,
the have-nots' land, never-ageing land,
always changing land,  politician rhetorician land;

and we all sing our nation song,
this multi-coloured throne
a seat of many treasures:
an ever-inked manuscript, an unauthored tome.

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