Sunday, December 28, 2014


WE, a poem by Joany 'Alice' Coleman

We are in a room where
Filtering light
Wandering hands
And loveless exchanges
Which move to echoing corridors
With the perfect
Acoustics for our cries.

We are used
To empty rooms
Because we're hollow
With no regard
For comforting words
And pleasant exchanges
But for careful sentences
And clever statements.
An empty glass
Sits next to
A smoking ashtray
And we stub the ends
Of our cancer in it
And let our charcoaled fingers
Twist into each other's hair
Whilst we smirk in half-light.

We don't believe in true love
But in Rock & Roll romance
And we ignore the social norms
And throw our arms into the air
And scream with the music
Before dancing out into 5am skies
And falling over attitudes onto the pavement.

We pick each other up
Dust off the laughter
And push lips against other
Whiskey stained lips
Fueled by lust and a side order
Yet we don't forget what it means
To be thankful.

They say we are the lost generation
But we question how can we be lost
When we are so very present
When we are so very

We are here
We are loud
And we are unapologetic for our
And we state them regularly.

We will still be here
When the rubble gets swept
And new roads are paved
When leaders fall
And movements form
When diseases are cured
And disasters experienced
When the young are born
And the old die
When you tell us we do nothing
And don't watch when we do.

We are here.
We are present.
We are valid.
And we will be who we deserve to be.