Open World

From my collection, avalible on Amazon: Blood & Bread: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Bread-Blood-Voices-Struggle-Resilience/dp/B0DP7WCFGN/ref=sr_1_1?crid=25RM3M9ERPH75&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.8qm8GKx9dWzg_ZKJ-lBs

Open World 

 

Open scripts for evicted lines 

Penned by fates with avid eyes 

The rich have prospects  

That the poor provide. 

 

Gasps of air 

Escaping their lungs, where’s the ventilators? 

They have been sent to be 

Hung 

 

Death knocks on the door, and we open fearfully. 

We set out the flowers, the casket, hymns. 

A poetic sob 

When did death become expensive? 

 Vacant bibles line our shelves 

Unseen riddles confusing ourselves 

Art, perceived as a joyous humour 

Cutting out the mainstreams toxic tumour 

 

We watch the comedies, tragedies, love affairs 

Beating up ourselves, give way for the billionaire! 

Brainwashed into a deluded present 

Clapping at the show, applauding us peasants. 

We all talk to the green-eyed man, glory. 

To destroy or repair the land 

Pulling our hair out 

Strand by strand 

  

Pennies, diamonds feathers and floats 

Notes, from all over the globe fall into laps of white knights,  

Laughing at the ones who trade with 

Goats. 

 

We wear the emperor’s uniform 

Feels as if it’s tagged, ready to conform. 

I once thought the spirit danced in the truth, 

But I now see it’s hidden behind plastic youth 

 

There’s far too much to say what’s wrong.  

So, when one man sings, the women sing along 

All hyped up in a f**k’n’pop band 

Their rights, diminished, turning into sand. 

 

The children of today and borrowed & bruised, 

Their insides now, turning black and blue 

Blades and daggers to protect themselves with  

Youth they say, Ought’ to give em’ a clue.  

 

Hungry mouths cry,  

Mothers, fathers, cousins and friends, they do their best to try 

Foodbanks are their only saviour 

The paupers been sent to do hard labour 

 

They wonder why people find happiness in a little pill 

Escapism, this place strips them of their will 

White snow on the bottom of a nose 

Pounding at the door at number ten, that door will forever be closed 

 Outnumbered, isolated and denied 

Beaten for the complexion on their face, the government takes it all in their stride 

Hideaways, luxury, sunbathing on the deck 

While we pay for it, our tax feeding your god complex 

 

I route for overrule, protest and anarchy 

We do apologise bourgeoise, for it is so unmannerly 

Politicians are humans, the same as us 

But with power comes great responsibly, remember Liz Trust? 

 

Jumped ship as soon as it got hard 

If the nurse down the street did that, she would get barred 

No one takes accountability for nothing 

While the people at war, that you created, are sent home in a coffin. 

 

The carers, the doctors, our beloved nurses 

To be overworked, underpaid and carried out in hearses 

Because I don’t think you care, I really don’t think you do 

Imagine if it was your son, daughter, imagine if it was you.

 

Sickening screams for patients lying in the hallway 

Deafening cry’s, staff just don’t think there’s a way 

A way to carry on, a reason to live 

Prime minster we’re begging, do you have nothing to give? 

 

 

Why do I have to pay for an education to fuel your economy? 

Please Mr speaker, the children just want autonomy 

A chance to studied art, music, dance 

Not to be put in an office, a rat race, give us a chance 

 

I know what Im speaking is only a fraction with what is actually wrong 

But for a nation to be this fucked up, how can I feel like I belong? 

I don’t believe in your empire, your nation, your trust 

How dare you criticise the poor, you’ve left us in the dust 

 

Cabinet, are we broken china for your collection? 

You’re the ones who are supposed to help us, give us protection 

Leader of the opposition, I want to say thank you 

You see our lives, you take a different view 

 

Protest but we aint see progress 

Women being shamed with what they do with their body, a scandal in the press 

Being lead like lambs to the slaughter 

Kids dying, gasping for just a sip of water 

 

Our sea’s are rising, mountain’s crumble 

The people say told you so, the bankers grumble 

How do you have the cheek to charge people for prescriptions? 

They can’ find a reason, hidden behind metaphorical encryptions. 

Coming off to people’s yards 

Seeing if they are really disabled, showing us your obviously in charge 

Asking them to lift a pen, a cup or a ball 

I bet you lot feel mighty, right big and tall 

 

Scum, that’s what I’ve always said 

For the people they say, yet blindly led 

It’s not their fault, they just listen thinking it’s the truth 

Blaming it on the innocent foreign workers, blame it on the youth 

 

If you would like to smile as the pictures say 

The children normally do, once every summers day. 

In and out of the old barren floors, 

This society digs deep 

 Sinking it’s claws

Author's Note

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Bread-Blood-Voices-Struggle-Resilience/dp/B0DP7WCFGN/ref=sr_1_1?crid=25RM3M9ERPH75&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.8qm8GKx9dWzg_ZKJ-lBsYg.7jSsnCN098MLcEZXJDfXiX_IX3Fa1If42DWJLynVksI&dib_tag=se&keywords=bread+and+blood+abby+pullan&qid=1742298144&sprefix=bread+and+blood+abby+pullan%2Caps%2C135&sr=8-1

Reviews

[Soren]

This poem shows strong criticism of present conditions in society. Anger shows through from time to time and cynicisms seems to be the primary director. A well worded poem of length.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Abby,
Think you meant "its" in the last line?

This one grabbed me and, unlike most long poems, held my attention to the end.
I have spent my entire life in the bottom half of society...wondering how so many of the upper class sleep at night. Maybe on a Mattress Firm mattress like the commercials say.
There is such a gap...and then our politicians....they have their agendas and squabble so much amongst themselves that they forget we elected them to serve us and not themselves...
Good grief...this poem surely hits on a few topics and hits them hard.
You are quite talented...At 21 I was writing half metaphors and lost love sob poems.
j.

[abbypullanlitandpoetry]

Dang, you got me on the its/it's debacle! Thank you so much for catching that - those little grammar gremlins always sneak through when you're fired up about politics.
Your words mean absolutely everything to me. I actually won a prize at uni for this poem about UK politics, but honestly, your response touches me more than any formal recognition could. Knowing it held your attention to the end and that it resonated with someone who truly understands the struggle is incredible.
I'm exactly the same - parents working class, first generation to go to university, dirt poor. So when someone like you, who's spent your life in "the bottom half of society" as you put it, says this poem hits hard, that's the validation that actually matters. That's who I'm writing for - people who know what it's like to wonder how the other half sleeps at night whilst we're struggling to pay rent.
The gap between us and them feels impossible sometimes, doesn't it? And yes, our politicians have completely forgotten they're supposed to serve us, not line their own pockets. Thank you for seeing that anger and frustration in the poem and for sharing your own experience.
Your encouragement means the world - at 21, I'm still figuring out my voice, so knowing it's connecting with people who've lived this reality keeps me going.
Thank you, truly.
Abby x