Emma Watkinson

A firefly in peripheral  A shiver in a coal warmed room A smell of cigarettes in clean air A voice heard when night falls A sunken heart and tightened throat  Welled eyes and scent deleted A home gapes with figure missing A hand no longer to be held  As you're enclosed with dust settled

Shopping and lunch date taken for granted Recharge with a coffee and up again for round two I’m pretending my muscles don’t burn I’m pretending my watch isn’t ticking to seizure o’clock I’m dressing for comfort not glamour Fabrics that mould to the sofa when I need to crash out “Let’s go for cocktails or go out for a meal” I’m pretending I’m alert hiding my yawn in my (jersey) sleeve Getting ready exhausts me before the taxi is called A migraine in the distance promising presence before it arrives Heel ache times by twenty for Cinderella brained belles Nights out spoiled by memories of week long recoveries made Eyeliner eyes glaze through eyelash extensions Weighing heavy on lids already worn and strained Dancing for me is a gladiator battle My chosen cloth light as I’m already weighed down Patterns of clothing mixed with bright flashing bulbs Send my brain waves to seizures looking drunken and strange Pyjamas now; not classic shapes and flattering cut What...

What kind of car for my funeral?  As if I'd care about that? I should be shopping for Christmas  not making post mortem plans I’ve discovered I’m mortal before average age I've written farewells to my family  in case my surgery fails 🧠 There's this thing in my head that shouldn’t have grown  It’s caused havoc for years  with the causes unknown 🧠 It's low grade, not fatal  The big C's not in play but a life time of swelling has sent my marbles astray 🧠 When I got diagnosed,  I was gobsmacked and shocked but relieved that they’d found it  before my hinges fell off 🧠 ‘cause I saw Disney and dinosaurs like I’d dropped LSD  But I owed nothing to dealers  I got my visions for free 🧠 I heard voices and noises  but not the comforting kind  as it burrowed inside me  deconstructing my mind 🧠 What could I say to mi kids about this bothersome blob?  They don’t need insensitive words falling out of my gob ‘cause the “T” w...

Mi Arle Fella Johnny Wok was a legend, I called him the ginger Tom Jones There are plenty of stories about his life on the road It started with Lally teaching Johnny Wok to strum but the daft sod joined the army, just before Merseybeat had begun He was a terrible soldier, but great at escape He’d go AWOL routinely to go and Jam with his mates He bragged to his fellow squaddies about The Beatles prior their fame As he’d seen them play in Huyton before the whole world knew their name He ordered their first single from the NAAFI to share this wealth But as the sound crept off the record; Johnny Wok was cringing to himself “Please Please Me?” Like shite thee have Then he joined The Vaqueros, with Lally Stott at the front Then took over as singer after Lally moved on After those days had ended, the Horse Shoe took him on He was the regular in the 70s when he set out on his own That’s when Johnny Hyland was born, his stage name in the clubs Playing solo driven by Charlie, so he was not on hi...

I was slut shamed on Facebook by an old friend from school He was fuming that I don’t share his white fascist views He was aggressive and bitter; he called me snowflake and woke Just because I’m not a tory and a thick racist bloke He mocked me and accused me of dim witted beliefs He's one of those who reckons migrants are employment thieves My fella said shut up, fill your mouth with a gag He replied “do you know that your wife was our school slag?” I deleted and blocked him, but he continued to rant About the times when I let a boy's hands in my pants He exaggerated and said the lads were part of a queue My mate sent me a screenshot of his venomous spew How did he know about that illicit transaction, On the golf course in a bush, 'twas my first outdoor action There wasn’t a queue, maybe one quiet spectator I was hardly a live porn exhibit creator 30 years after this leafy encounter, The lad litters his page with accusatory slander He shared sordid details of rumours he...

I don’t wish to be labelled brave or a source of inspiration, There’s this habit “ableds” have expressing disability deification Bravery comes from choice, not a case of making do. I live dull from day to day the same as folks like you You say that memory must be a mountain and you express your empathy. You say you understand my challenges because you always lose your keys I lost 2006 to 2012, I don’t think that’s the same . With daily embarrassment to feel when I forget a colleagues name They take it personally and hit me with a “what is my value?” probe. It’s not a measurement of our friendship, it’s just my knackered temporal lobe  🤯  🧠

Body in bloom but mind yet to flower Boys looked below an acceptable gaze My body stood out as my teens were awaiting I was mocked by my classmates for premature growth Bra straps were snapped by boys in the corridor Played down by the teachers, as innocent fun I was lonely and tired of the daily invasion but the attention replaced the connections I craved I found contact and company from boys past my year group I was too young to stop it from moving to touch The first one, not chosen saw this rosebud as lonely a card used to gamble his secretive plan He threatened to tell all that I had pursued him as he lay me on ground not designed for embrace The rumours went round as his friends were updated he gave details of actions he took without nod He fuelled judgement on girls who age without option ‘though our thoughts were in line with those yet to bud

How the hell did this happen, This really quick increase in girth? My boobs have gone huge and my stomach has swelled I look like I’m about to give birth * My stretch marks have got their own stretch marks My arse is obscuring the sun Another few months of me eating like this Will have me weighing in close to a ton * My friends say I’m curvy and gorgeous My husband says, there’s more to love But I pant when I walk, and sometimes when I talk My lungs are now ready to pop * My thighs have been rubbing together My hair line is sweaty and lank Coz I can’t walk a mile without a need to perspire It’s my gluttonous ways I should thank * People ask if I favour a sweet tooth, or am I driven by savoury scoff I don’t have enough teeth to count the flavours I crave Just slap it down there in a trough * I don’t think fat makes me ugly I’ve still got the same smile and eyes But that won’t last long if clog up my heart With cholesterol saturated pies * I get ...

He didn’t ask me to come and see some puppies He didn’t tempt me with a bag of penny sweets He just acknowledged when self-hatred grew inside me, He flattered me and wore me down to make my innocence retreat * He didn’t threaten or forcefully make me do things At first he asked me round; just to watch TV This led to mechanically complying to his really fucked up needs, I let him pull apart the dignity in me * I returned to him with no coercion I would stroll as if just calling ‘round for tea I kept it as secret coz I knew that mum would never understand why let him do such sickening things to me * He made me feel like I was wanted The touching was bill I had to pay You see my company was never something other people tried to win, so I returned to him because he'd would let me stay * He asked me if my friend would come and join him his desire had left so he was reaching out for change He asked me to recruit her as she was prettier than me My plain looks were no longer what he craved...

“Go back to where you come from, ‘cause we haven’t got the room!” Well if “they” should, so should you ye tit,  I see no ancient Britons in my view We’re stood in Liverpool you gobshite, once the gateway to the world We welcomed travellers from lands afar, and shipped slaves to yield our wealth Half of us are Irish bred, from the Emerald Isle they fled Famine caused by England stealing spuds and wheat and seeds for bread That migration caused hostility, and they were accused of stealing jobs Then we focused on opposing sides of Catholics versus “proddy dogs” We did the same shit during Windrush, and put signs in window panes Aligning dogs savaging for scraps with nationality and race Now we criticise all non-Christians for the actions of a few We forget our country’s religious terror past in this blinkered point of view “But they’re terrorists and rapists, they’re all abusing little girls” Check statistics mate, you’ll see all faiths and races share that world ...

I dream of doing yoga But I worry I may fart My downward dog emitting A shame inducing parp I’d love to do Pilates But I’m terrified I’ll boff If I relax so much my bowels relax And set a gas explosion off I have attempted meditation But my efforts hit a bump When my mouth let out an “ohm” my arse let out a massive trump I aspire to find tranquillity Peace and calmness from within But I know that silence would be ruined  By me loudly breaking wind

You are a plaster on an arse wipe finger and you smell just like a public bog you're a hairbrush that a dog has pissed on You smell like an incontinent dog Your voice is like a scratched up record nails scraping down a school chalkboard your house smells like a split side bin bag or smeared roadkill that spent 2 weeks on the floor Your touch is like a warm raw chicken fillet a week older than its use by date your breath smells like a salvaged dog end mixed with strongbow and a jar of princess salmon paste You’ve got rancid sour milk smelling armpits with blackheads on your shoulder blades you’ve got love bites on your pustuled neck line How does a meff like you ever get laid? Your jeans have smudged up greasy knee caps I bet there’s skid marks on your well worn draws dried to flower potting standard clay stains You’ve got a limp caused by abrasion  from your shit stained baggy smalls Brush your teeth with some sulphuric acid and wipe your nose to clear your crusty upper lip ch...

Clever Kids EMMA SEASMAN · SUNDAY, 10 JULY 2016 I’m proud to have two clever kids, but they cause me such confusion I have to Google search their words for conversational inclusion They’ve got brilliant researched knowledge and analytical insight I’m trying hard to to get a word in as they attempt to be polite See, they mean well and respect me, but I’m still here feeling daft When they have to stop, and show me how to use my iPhone apps With meticulous verbosity, beyond average teenaged patter They argue over human rights and things that really matter Even when we talk of music, my most confident chat of choice They can’t help but overthrow me with their Wikipedic voice The verbal spillage of their knowledge is like reading NME They’re music experts at the level of a doctorate degree My son is playing strings like Clapton, he knew his chords within a week He was playing lead within 9 months and he’s only just turned fourteen My daughter ...

Liverpool’s a hot bed for protest and for change. Politics is ‘r first language debate’s how we engage. Our only Blue’s in Goodison Red’s ‘r governing flag. Yellow is for bellies who’s left is middle class. There was one of independence she shunned those primary hues, she fought for hidden voices, brought breadlines into view. She studied noble Dockers held spotlights on their cause, questioned unfair acts from bosses who paid crumbs for those on board. She questioned why our women who had equal sweat on brow had to work for less than pittance with them in charge expecting bows. She took arms against oppression infuriated by our plight: didn’t condescend or pity she cleared our paths so we could fight. She craved for equal power, pushed for knowledge to be shared, created services to guide us, so our voices could be heard. She addressed the global challenge of how women where abhorred, subject to violence and repression, ignored and robbed of...

Johnny Wok was a legend, the ginger Tom Jones He had plenty of groupies in his life on the road Then he copped off with Winnie who ‘ad a houseful o’ kids He moved in, settled down, started livin’ in sin He was the world’s greatest step dad and Winnie’s best friend a new modern man who cooked the tea and made the beds After two years together, he got Winnie knocked up I am Johnny’s first baby, an’ her 6th little one For the first five children Johnny Wok lost his step they’d moved on from their real dad ‘cause he chose to neglect Their first years where happy, then us kids went astray Winnie’s heart took the knock, so she pushed Johnny away See, we’d changed from The Waltons to a challenging brood Getting lippy with teachers, having fights, being rude My teen years arrived and I grew desperate to leave watching mum and dad fight was just too sad to see ...