The sky, voyeur that it is

On Valentine's Day, 

the sky, voyeur that it is, 

heard lovers talk 

of going for a walk 

in the morning.

In the morning, 

the lovers woke to the sky 

pissing it down

with rain.

So, the lovers did what lovers do

and woke to the sky,
ears pressed against their window,
listening in.

sleep brings no rest

sleep brings no rest
brings dreams of work
like a slow tread
and a gathering
of priests and priestesses
friends
standing there
some you recognise
others you remember only vaguely
and you hold hands
and swing hands
from side to side
and exchange hugs and greetings
and are happy to see one another
as night turns into morning
and sleep ends with more greetings
more holding of hands
more swinging of hands from side to side
more exchanges of hugs and greetings
and more joy at seeing one another again

but no rest

In the time of monsters pulling wings off butterflies ...

When communities are in distress, the first reports on that distress come from the communities themselves. If these voices are not heeded, the harms they are complaining of become institutionalised. They become systemic. Normal. Unremarkable. Banal.

It is horrifying to read, in January 2026, that the Home Office is torturing refugees and asylum seekers as punishment for crossing the English Channel to seek refuge in Britain whilst being Black or Brown.

The Guardian reports that the asylum seekers - from conflict zones that include Sudan, Afghanistan and Iran - 'accuse the Home Office of subjecting them to arbitrary detention, denial of legal representation, inadequate medical care, degrading treatment and severe psychological harm.'

The people assert that they came to the UK 'in the pursuit of safety, dignity and a chance to live a peaceful life', and are 'calling on the UN and human rights groups to urgently investigate conditions that people detained for deportation under the 'one in, one out' scheme are held in.'

Once upon a time, Britain was the world's leading slave trading empire, and France was the third. 

It is horrifying that in 2026, Britain and France are, once again, in the business of trading in and treating racialised humans as cargo and commodities that can be traded between nations.

There Will Always Be One More Thing

"There Will Always Be One More Thing",   

first published in From Here To There (CivicLeicester, 2025), pp. 62-71

There will always be one more thing.[1]

A nobleman, a man of God.

His name was George.
He confessed his belief
In the one true God.[2]

Patron Saint of Aragon, Catalonia, and England,
Patron Saint of Georgia, Germany and Greece,
Patron Saint of Lithuania, Moscow and Portugal,
Patron Saint of Romania, and Serbia,

His name was George.
He confessed his belief in the one true God.
A nobleman, a man of God, his name was George.

Somebody says[3] Europe can’t cope
simply can’t cope
with African and Asian refugees.[4]

We’d be over-run,
Patron Saint of Archers.

It’d be too much,
Patron Saint of Cavalry and Cavalrymen.

We’d be ruined,
Patron Saint of Scouts and Soldiers.

We’d be overwhelmed,
Patron Saint of Riders and Saddlers.

We’d be tainted,
Patron Saint of Fencers and Field workers.

We’d be diluted

A noble man, a man of God.
His name was George.

Patron Saint of Ethiopia,
Lebanon,
Palestine,
and Syria,

Somebody says African and Asian men
women
and children
fleeing war
conflict
persecution
climate change
extreme poverty
violence

do so

illegally.

His name was George.
He confessed his belief in the one true God.
He was afflicted with many evils,
But his spirit was not broken.

Somebody says African and Asian refugees
men
women
and children
can’t possibly be human

can only be illegal

criminal

for surviving border zones
deserts
seas
and the jungle,

can’t be human

can only be small boats

for swimming the moat
and scaling the fortress,

can’t be human

for wanting to feel safe
and for wanting to live
breathe
dream
flourish,
and prosper

simply

cannot

can’t be human

He was afflicted with many evils,
But his spirit was not broken.
He confessed his belief in the one true God.

Patron Saint of Syria,
Palestine,
Lebanon,
and Ethiopia,

Somebody says Europe can’t cope
simply can’t cope

with this invasion

with these black, Muslim numbers

these small boats

these non-humans

can’t possibly do for Black African and Muslim Asian refugees
what we did for white, Christian, blue-eyed, blond, middle-class, working-class European men women and children Ukrainian refugees who look like us and live in houses and drive cars and go on holiday and go to work, church, the club, and school like us and who ...[5]

Then, when he had died,
He arose again from the dead.
He arose again from the dead.
And began at once to preach.

Patron Saint of Portugal, England, and Germany,
Patron Saint of Aragon, Catalonia, and Lithuania,
Patron Saint of Serbia, Romania, and Greece,
Patron Saint of Moscow and Georgia,

A noble man, a man of God.
His name was George.

Somebody says Europe is a garden
built of freedom
economic prosperity
and social cohesion[6]

an exception

built of beautiful things
intellectual life
and wellbeing

Yes, we’ve built a garden.
Europe is a garden,
and the rest of the world, a jungle.[7]

Then, when he had died,
He arose again from the dead.
He arose again from the dead.
And began at once to preach.

Patron Saint of Moscow, Georgia, and Serbia,
Patron Saint of Romania, Lithuania, and Greece,
Patron Saint of Portugal, Aragon, and Catalonia,
Patron Saint of England, and Germany,

Somebody says the jungle
by different ways and means
will invade us[8]

He arose again from the dead.
He arose again from the dead
And began at once to preach.

Protector against the plague,
Protector against leprosy,
Protector against venomous snakes,

His name was George.
He confessed his belief in the one true God.
A nobleman, a man of God, his name was George.

Somebody says African and Asian men, women and children
drowning four times[9]
cannot be human
simply cannot,

can’t be human

can only be illegal
warehousable
transportable
trade-able
fungible
units
swarms
waves
a flood
mermen tripping on fantasies of walking on land sailing oceans on ship rudders[10]
Icarus[11] intent on disturbing 31-year-old, Clapham, south-west London software engineer’s Polish beer[12]
manacled, straitjacketed birds[13] on chartered deportation flights cattle trucks still–bursting throttling songs of freedom[14] through manacled legs  torn ligaments  shattered spines  broken wristings  broken necks  crushed chests  collapsed lungs[15]
nothing to see here  nothing to hear
would you like something to eat, ma’am
something to drink, sir
fasten your seatbelts
enjoy the onboard entertainment
one in, one out
deal
of single
fighting age
illegal
numbers, meeennn
with no rights
to want

our jobs,
our women
our schools
our social housing
our NHS
hotels
homes

children,
He arose again from the dead
And began at once to preach.

Patron Saint of Ethiopia,
Patron Saint of Lebanon,
Patron Saint of Syria,
Patron Saint of Palestine,

Somebody says Britain must
reduce the numbers
send the drones
send the jet skis, wave machines and floating walls
send the navy
send the army
send M
MI5
MI6
James Bond
the police
The Doctor
send Peppa
Pig
send the patriots, knights, and SAS
send the villagers and towners
send Rupert Paddington, and Winnie
Toad too
round up
clear out
by any means
stop them the invasion
bang them up
string them up
reduce
smash
the foreigners the Africans the Muslims small boats numbers
send them back
carcasses
throw them back
against the border
the sewer
vermin
the river
the sea
human zoos
concentration camps
death camps
killing fields
weapons development & testing grounds
organ harvesting fields
fence them in
what I’d like to know is would you push the button
open air & for-profit prisons containers
disused military barracks
offshore
out of sight
out of earshot
offshore rigs
prison ships barges
prison colonies
shithole countries
Rwanda
Albania
Kosovo
fish and meat markets grinders
wars
let them drown
tents
sands
count them
monetise them
tag & track them
no rare earth minerals
nor oil and gas
nor semiconductors
nor markets for our missiles, bunker buster bombs and F-35s
these
biomass

O God,
who didst grant to Saint George strength and constancy,
preserve, through his intercession,
our faith from wavering[16]

because for them
no visas
no e-gates
no family reunion
no safe routes
no sanctuary
because they are not,
cannot be
can’t be human

these numbers

these small boats
this invasion

cut their feet off[17a, b]
deflate their dinghies
the small boats
in the sun
let them drown
the Black African Muslim Asian carrion
in the night
detritus
in
at
within our
the border
driftwood

these

because we can’t cope

because Europe is a garden

because the rest of the world
is not blue-eyed blond a jungle
and the jungle
wants

to invade
us.

He rose again from the dead.
He arose again from the dead
And began at once to preach.


And The Sirens, still –
with songs of freedom
– to thy treacherous coasts lure
the displaced

to these hard, hard coasts[18]


Wade in the water (we dey)
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water (we dey)[19]

REFERENCES:

[1] In conversation with Toni Morrison who, in a 1975 speech, said: ‘The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of this is necessary. There will always be one more thing.’ (Morrison, T. (1975). Lecture: A Humanist View. The Black Agenda Review, 26 March 2025. [accessed: 30 October 2025])

[2] Extract from The Georgslied (Song of St. George). Wikisource. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[3] In conversation with Lady Blacksmith Mambazo. (1986). Homeless. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[4] Krause, U. (2021). Colonial roots of the 1951 Refugee Convention and its effects on the global refugee regime. J Int Relat Dev 24, 599–626. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[5] Limbong, A. 2022. Why Ukrainians are being treated differently than refugees from other countries. npr, February 28. [accessed: 8 November 2025]

[6] Borrell, J. (2022). European Diplomatic Academy: Opening remarks by High Representative Josep Borrell at the inauguration of the pilot programme. European Commission, 13 October. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[7] Borrell, J. (2022).

[8] Ibid.

[9] Hayden, S. (2022). My Fourth Time, We Drowned. Fourth Estate, 2022

[10] Four Nigerians survive 14 days on ship’s rudder before Brazilian rescue. The Guardian, 1 August 2023. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[11] In conversation with Amanda Holiday. (2024). “African Icarus”, in Japa Fire: An Anthology of Poems on African and African Diasporic Migration. CivicLeicester, 2024: 32

[12] Kale, S. (2021). Out of thin air: the mystery of the man who fell from the sky. The Guardian, 15 April 2021. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[13] In conversation with Maya Angelou’s “Cage Bird”, on Poets Speak (2024). MAYA ANGELOU reads “Caged Bird”. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[14] In conversation with Bob Marley and The Wailers (1991). Redemption Song. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[15] Deaths of immigration detainees. 2017-2025. Inquest. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[16] Early church intercessory prayer

[17a] Hilsum, L. (2023). No way forwards, or back: The plight of West African migrants stuck in Niger. Times Literary Supplement, October 20. [accessed: 21 November 2025]

[17b] Hilsum, L. (2023). The story of Alphonse who we met in #Agadez. X, 3 October. [accessed: 21 November 2025]

[18] In conversation with “Rule, Britannia!” (1763): ‘The Muses, still with freedom found / Shall to thy happy coasts repair / Shall to thy happy, happy coasts repair / Blest isle regardless, with countless beauty places / And manly hearts to guard the fair’. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

[19] The Spirituals. (2021). Wade in the water. [accessed: 30 October 2025]

Who's Afraid of A Poem?

The poet (Hmm) thought of a poem. (Do you think a poem?). Hmm. OK. [Smiles.] (Panic). Right. (Alarm). So ... (Runs out screaming).

Call for Participants - Forced Migration and The Arts

Forced Migration and The Arts is an online series that brings together people with lived experience of forced migration, artists, activists and academics for conversation exploring questions around forced migration and the arts.

The conversations take place in the evening on the last Thursday of each month.

A playlist of videos from conversations we have held so far is accessible here. 

As part of the series, we would also like to explore topics that include (not limited to, and not necessarily in this order): refugee camps, internment camps, detention centres, museums and galleries, libraries and archives, decolonisation, community and participatory arts, theatre, music, poetry, creative writing, methodologies, theoretical and conceptual frameworks, the UK's minimum income requirement, visual art, fine art, street art, public art, film, Haiti, Lebanon, Syria, Afghanistan, Kenya, Libya, Venezuela, Mexico, Ukraine, and more.

Have you done any work around forced migration and the arts in any of these contexts? Did the work include people with lived experience of forced migration? Would you and the people you worked with like to speak as part of the series? 

If yes, please email civicleicester@gmail.com and let us know.

About CivicLeicester:

CivicLeicester is a community media channel that uses the arts, digital and print technologies and social media platforms like YouTube, Facebook and Twitter to highlight conversations. 

The channel is unfunded and was set up after realising that, year in, year out, there were a lot of very significant activities and conversations taking place at a grassroots, community, national and international level that should be more visible but were not receiving any mainstream media coverage at all.

Books we have published include Welcome to Britain: An Anthology of Poems and Short Fiction (2023), Black Lives Matter: Poems for A New World (2020), and Bollocks to Brexit: An Anthology of Poems and Short Fiction (2019).

Ambrose Musiyiwa

Facilitator, CivicLeicester 

This post was updated on 29 April 2023 to include a list of some of the topics we would like to explore as part of the series. 

dinosaurs on first street

would it have been safer
to keep on walking
to ignore that
next to the construction site
with its cranes
and its promise
of incongruous high-rise buildings
looking down
on the derelict memory
of empire
on this street
dividing the old 
and the new
there
on the pavement
dinosaurs

Written on 17 June 2022. Inspired by a find on First Street, in Manchester, after dinner at HOME Mcr, after the opening of a two-day workshop and conference on Transnational Lived Citizenship Through Creative Production which took place on the 16th and 17th of June at the University of Manchester.

The Rabbit On The Moon

You said you were learning Russian because you wanted to be an astronaut. And you laughed and apologised, remembering the friend who found such talk irritating because 47 was too old for dreams.

Once, you stood between the sun and the moon. There was a rabbit on the moon.

They said, then you can write an auto-ethnography about seeking refuge on the moon. 

You said you weren't going to the moon. You said you were going to Mars. You said you were going to be part of a manned mission to Mars.

You laughed and said you were not to be minded, you were being you, making connections where there might not be any.

You said you did not want to be a hero because bad things happen to heroes.

crow's call tears morning meadow's run

blackbird with white stripes bore news

squirrel,

giddy from dodging cars on Welford Road, cyclists on Putney Road, and buses on Aylestone Road,

markings on the road

You did not know if there was an age at which you have to stop dreaming, an age at which you have to pack away dreams the way some people pack away toys.

One day, in London, it was day and then it was night and then it was day again with no darkness at all in the middle.

And you stood between the sun and the moon.

The sun and the moon were like lovers pulling to each other over the rooftops because they could not bear parting.

do you remember how you got here?

why did you come?

do you remember anything?

If you let me, I could love you forever, said the sun to the moon.

Stephen Crane gets His Head Round the Hostile Environment

A migrant said to Britain:
"Do you not see the sacrifices I make?"
"How ungrateful!" Britain replied,
"Isn't it enough that every Thursday at 8pm sharp
"I clap for your right to die for this great nation?"

this city

I

this city
is old,
older than jesus christ

this city
is young,
is reborn every day at 9am

this city
is old enough
to let you move
the way you want to move

this city
is young enough
to let you be
what you want to be

II

this city is a song
a pulse
a hum and crackle
a trembling
a feeling that if you stand still for too long
straddling the roads,
feeding the city,
you will be pulled in,
pulled up
burned,
turned to ash
consumed

III

this city,
a place of exits
and arrivals,
welcomes you
as you leave

IV

there's no other way of looking at it,
really
this city
is a Hotel California
kind of a place,
the hum and crackle you hear
is no different
from the current on fences
keeping the horses in

Earlier versions of “this city” have been published in the Leicester Mercury (27 February 2016) and in the anthology, Welcome to Leicester: Poems about The City (Dahlia Publishing, 2016).

The Politics of Friendship

On the way out,
Friendship stands at the door,
and announces to the room
what could have been said to the ear.

shake fist at sky

shake fist at sky
scowl at setting sun
spit at falling rain
piss at driving wind

frayed edges
knock on wind like woodpeckers
demanding a reset

These Streets Think of Summer

Leicester, 17 June 2017

we chose this place,
                or this place chose us

looked at from above, the streets
around the Clock Tower
have the shape of an icicle

as angels mingle with crowds,
in the near tropical heat,
sampling continental, Mediterranean
and world dishes at the party
                greeting new arrivals

the cooling sound and lulling spray
of water from the fountain

i meet Venus on Horsefair Street
                she cannot stop

the families, poets, priests, lovers,
musicians and Pan bask,
picnic in the sun, remembering
celebrating Venus' sister, Jo

the historians, philosophers, prophets
and revolutionaries at the cross
                pointing the way to the heart of the city,
prophesy a time when money
will not be a measure
for human life

Notes:

These Streets Think of Summer was inspired by: the Continental Market that was held around the Clock Tower on 17 June 2017; the Refugee Week celebration that was held in Town Hall Square; the event celebrating the life of Jo Cox that was held at Leicester Cathedral; and the convergence of protests that took place at Jubilee Square all on the same day. 

The poem has also been featured on the pavement at the Leicester Against War / Leicester for Peace vigil that has been taking place at the Clock Tower weekly since December 2015. The vigil is the longest running current vigil of its kind in Britain and is calling on Britain to, among other things, do more to support people who are looking for refuge as well as for an end to British military intervention in countries like Syria.

maybe you were right

maybe you were right

maybe you get so used
to feeling trapped that
you don't see a way out, that
when the worst happens,
you stay fairly balanced
because you expected it

you throw away / push away /
give away / let go of /
sully / abandon
that which can lead
to other ways of being
because you no longer believe
things can be different

come up for air

breathe

imagine unicorns and rainbows
and flowers in bloom

breathe

imagine a world full
of butterflies,
bumblebees and hummingbirds

breathe

go back to the time
when there was dancing
in the rain

breathe

stay there
for as long as you need

breathe

give me dreams

give me dreams
such as make you laugh
as you sleep
and smile
as you wake

The Sign of Jonah

Jonah was a fisherman.
The Lord said to Jonah, "Go there."
Jonah said, "No.
I am a fisherman.
I know where the fish are.
There's where I go."

The Lord sulked.

Jonah was a fisherman.
He took his boat to sea, to go
where the fish were. Halfway there,
The Lord raised a big storm,
Broke Jonah's boat
And drowned Jonah -

Or, so The Lord thought.

But ... er ... Jonah was a fish ...
er ... man. Jonah turned into a big fish
And swam to shore.

Not to be out done, The Lord made tell
how he'd told Jonah, "Go there"
and Jonah'd said, No
And how he, The Lord
had cooked up a big storm,
and broke Jonah's boat,
And how he, The Lord,
had sent a big fish to save Jonah
And how the big fish had taken Jonah
To the place he, The Lord,
Had said to Jonah, "Go to this place."

Stephen Crane Imagines Hamsters

A hamster said to the Universe,
"Sir, I'm on a treadmill!"
"You are a hamster," the Universe replied,
"What did you expect?"

Leicester: an Extraordinary City?

A few years ago, Fiona Allan, the then Curve Theatre director, gave a TEDx Talk titled, "Leicester: a City of Culture".

The speech remains as relevant today as when it was first given because it shows part of how people who have an interest in the city and in the arts view what is happening here, what the city has to offer, and what needs to improve.

In her speech, Allan's main criticism seems to be that there is a mismatch between the way the city talks about itself and how others perceive it. As examples, she cites a Labour Party manifesto that describes Leicester as a City of Festivals and another document that describes Leicester's Diwali celebrations as "world famous", and she suggests that these descriptions are either exaggerations or hyperbole.

However, while there are a number of places around the world that are defined by or known for or associated with a particular large scale festival that takes place there, part of what makes Leicester different is precisely that many things of various sizes are happening at more or less the same time such that no one festival defines the city.

What Allan calls 'volume' or 'quantity' is actually a plurality of festivals. This plurality is part of what makes Leicester a City of Festivals. The plurality is a good for the city because, among other things, it means there is activity all round the year around the arts in Leicester. The plurality and activity also creates more opportunities to create, experience and take part in arts-related initiatives for more people than would happen were Leicester a mono-festival city.

Running through Allan's commentary is the observation that much of what happens in Leicester is hidden or not known beyond the city.

While I agree with that observation, I dispute Allan's suggest that this relative invisibility is because what is happening in this city is not good enough to garner national or international attention. Instead, I suggest that the relative invisibility is because of a number of factors, one of which has to do with how London-centric media coverage and promotion of the arts in Britain is.

Allan proposes the city can enthuse others about what is happening around the arts in Leicester if it improves the way it talks about itself. At the same time as I agree with Allan, I would also say the city is trying to do just that and that as part of those efforts, the city ought to set up a dedicated arts and culture research and publicity team that, among other things, maps, documents and spreads the word about arts-related activity taking place in and around Leicester.

Talking to a friend about all this, a few days ago, we agreed that another thing the city could do is draw on its strength - its plurality, diversity, internationalism or how there is someone from everywhere who calls this city home - and start having conversations with its population's source villages, towns, cities and countries about the extraordinary things that are happening in Leicester.