Kevin McCabe

Kevin's story told to Dawn:

Why did you get involved with the group?
To express my feelings.

Where do you get your inspiration?
I get his inspiration from love.

Where do you see yourself going?
I would probably help some people at some point.

Why are you involved in the writing group?
I want to learn and understand more writing.

What makes the group important?
Camaraderie.

What style of writing do you prefer?
Any kind of style because I like it all.

SMACK

A roll o’ the dice
changes your life
into an uncertain future.
You look for answers
while doin’ the chase
afore ye know it
it’s all over the place!

Generations lost, bewildered
between their ears;
scars last, for what seems
like a million years.
Hope ends up
on the cuttin’ room floor
while yer body comes out
in those awful, awful sores.

In the end, did it really matter?
as it was only the dealers
who were gettin’ fatter
when death came to meet
the children who once were oh so sweet.

The Visitor

I was nearly finished for the day, only one more door to call on.

As I walked down the path towards the front door I started to get a picture of who I thought lived there. The garden seemed to be well maintained, hedge neatly trimmed along with the grass, plant pots with fresh flowers in full bloom neatly placed around the door.

I thought to myself what well-organised people must live here as I pressed the doorbell.

The front door opened out, there stood an unwashed, toothless man. “Good day, sir, I wonder if you can spare a couple of minutes of your time. Are you the owner of the property, sir?”
“No the bank is, I just pay the mortgage.”

I thought “Hmm, sense of humour but looks terrible.”
“We’re in the area doin a survey to see if people feel safe in their homes.”
Quickly he replied, “The only time I feel safe is when my head hits the pillow, closin my eyes, blurtin out the world with all its inhumanity.

In an instant my view of this guy changed. Was he takin the piss or was there understandin of the world that I’d hadn’t heard all day. I wanted to know more.

“ Can I just say, sir, do you think it’s better to keep the peace or destroy the enemy?”

A wry smile came over his toothless face when he replied, “It’s more about changin attitudes and a willingness to do good that will keep the peace. As for destroyin the enemy, I think when you destroy anything you always end up destroyin part of yourself and any satisfaction found is lost.”

Tweny years on

Twenty years on, the rifts developed atween striking miners and scabs are still very much fresh. People who chose to break the strike are still ostracised by strikin miners preferin to walk on the other side of the road as Thatcherite policies succeeded in tearin’ communities apart.

Soup kitchen livin was the order of the day
As families went without pay
So they could have their say
And all they wanted was a fair crack of the whip
But all they got was treated like shit
The boys from the pit.

Where every trick in the book
Was used in the abuse of power

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