She Keeps Dropping the Baby
Legs akimbo
Arms open wide
She keeps dropping the baby
Clumsy miscarrying
Careless, clueless,
Useless, witless
So she names her faults
Her body can’t hold them
Tight enough to her
They just slide away
Slip out and off
To who knows where in limbo
She keeps on dropping them
Missing a call
Forgetting to listen
Young women take overdoses for less
Now each spinning plate is a life
She is trying
To save them
To stop them
crashing to the floor
But she just keeps dropping the baby.
Schlumberger never Schlumbers
Schlumberger says its purpose is,
“Timeless and Enduring.”
Like a knife to the heart.
Schlumberger is “pioneering oil and aftermarket services”
This does not mean creating a lovely vegan roast dinner from the supplies you bought from the farmers’ market
But selling technology to dig up, suck up, blow up chunks of the planet using:
- Seismic exploration
The violence of causing the earth to tremor mirroring the violence of war
Employing armaments such as dynamite, air guns, Torvex blasts and seismic vibrators.
- Deep-sea drilling
Journeying to the centre of the earth ever deeper and ever further from shore. Releasing toxic pollution and increasing the likelihood of a serious accident, fatality, injury, explosion or fire by 8.5% with every additional 100 feet of depth.
- Tar sands extraction
Vast open cast black treacle mines bigger than England scarring the planet. The dirtiest source of oil in the world.
- Fracking and refracking
Sending explosive shivers into the earth’s core to extract little pockets of gas buried deep between layers of shale, causing it to quake and convulse.
Schlumberger says that it will “drive us through the decades to come.”
Like a blunt drill trepanning.
We Locked Down Before the Lockdown
Interactive Performance Piece
We locked down before the lockdown.
When I shut my front door to the world, I felt…
In a panic I reached out to…
I binged watched TV news to the point where my thoughts were…
As the death toll grew, I grieved for…
I saw goats roaming the streets of Wales and creatures in my own back garden and hoped that…
My working pattern changed, sometimes I was overwhelmed and at other times little pockets of extra hours opened up. I was more conscious of…
We set up new platforms of communication and taught each other to…
I chose my bubble and flexed and stretched it as circumstances allowed, so that…
Many of us became carers and worked harder than ever trying to…
Others became more isolated and lonelier and…
My mind became…
I felt possessed by…
And I was moved to…
We walked in our sleep and dreamt of a new society where we…
We learnt to hold each other more safely and to whisper…
I wondered who I wanted to be when this was all over and my thoughts fixed upon…
Hold Tight onto Your Own Wrist
(To be read to the sound of a metronome.)
The doomsday clock stole to one minute and forty seconds before midnight
It has never before crept backwards or forwards in fractions
But has leapt to and fro in whole minutes
There is no going back now.
We have been given longer to hide before the seek,
Counting more slowly,
Draaggiinng ooout eeeach seccond,
Fake news is now an identified threat to existence,
They are double-dealing with our time.
Hold tight onto your own wrist,
Breathe in and out,
Listen to yourself tick away,
Feel the creature jump under your skin,
Can you slow it?
Shrews live fast and furious short lives,
With a heart rate that can reach 1500 beats per minute.
If the second hand on the atomic bulletin inches forward by just 20 seconds a year,
The youngest new member of my family will live to be five.
I feel so old now.
Jill Eastland
January 22nd 2020
A Poem Full of Love Laughter and Memories
Her smile and laughter lifted others
She was beautiful and more glamorous than me,
Passing on her hand-me-downs
Like a true sista
She empowered other women,
Giving them the strength to stand up against violence and abuse,
But she also made me laugh,
Critically appraising passing bums at Climate Camp.
She had a rarely clear head amongst our comrades,
Speaking truth to power
And never drinking before 8pm.
She was a real activist,
Preferring deeds to words,
We marched side by side at demos
And when socialist men enjoyed the sound of their own voices at countless meetings
She would sneak out for a fag or later a vape.
She was hugely generous,
Once loaning us the use of her boat,
To do a sex pistols revival gig,
For a royal wedding at which we wore blood spattered wedding dresses.
When we first met,
We embarrassingly had an entourage of lefty male followers,
And James enjoyed being reminded of her bossiness recently,
When I got him to help me make a pond.
She was a loyal friend and we had great fun together,
She supported all of my crazy artistic endeavours,
And looked amazing dressed as an Arabian Princess at Pink,
When we did a first Cambridge Pride Parade
Once around the Guildhall.
We were stalwarts of the stalls
For anti-war, anti-racism and anti-capitalism,
Jo gently turned down some of the outrageous propositions we received,
Including an invite from a giant rabbit to a sporting mascots drinking session,
Which I have to admit I was strangely tempted by.
She was enormously big hearted,
A quality James shares with her,
I am so grateful to them both for letting me spend time with them at their darkest hour
And that she had his love and devotion in these last years.
She had optimism and hope
And never gave up on the world,
A friend said to me when hearing of her passing,
That he thought that she would still be clearly directing us towards the revolution from wherever she is.
More Blacks, More Irish, More Dogs – 1
They stole our workers bank holiday this year,
And also, my father in law,
A working-class hero.
He worked on a farm in the county of Cavan from the age of 13.
And as a young man travelled to London,
The Irish Diaspora
Escaping poverty and religious intolerance,
Finding more poverty and racist intolerance.
We held things in common,
Like the fear of attacks or arrests.
When I was born, my family lived in one room.
Like me his young family lived in squalid and damp conditions,
In old Victorian houses,
We reminisced over the old tin bath.
We couldn’t find a better home,
My mother spoke good English and, on the phone would find us a home,
But when we arrived and they saw her,
The doors were shut on us,
“No Blacks, No Irish, No dogs
He said “it was worse for them”
Recognising the extreme hatred faced by people just for the colour of their skin.
When finally, he got a council flat in a tower block 3 miles from Grenfell,
He named it Heaven.
He wasn’t always PC though,
His family saying, “You can’t say that PJ”
We sat in horrified anticipation,
When his granddaughter revealed that she was bisexual and had a girlfriend,
As he said,
“Well, it’s a shame….
that they couldn’t do that 100 years ago,
Why can’t people just be allowed to be themselves?”
He worked hard and became a shop steward,
Championing others facing discrimination.
He was proud of his activist children and grandchildren.
Learning to use “the facebook” and the “wifi”
And liking their posts protesting about inequality.
He particularly appreciated our activism at Dale Farm and in support of Grenfell.
He always stopped to talk to homeless people.
And now Coronavirus and Capitalism still kills,
“More Blacks, More Irish, More Poor….”
The Assessment
To be read by claimants and carers to an audience including claimants and carers as a prompt to discuss and rewrite and change the performance, so that it becomes a tool for practicing assessments, empowering people and politically rewriting the script.
Cast:
Friend
Claimant
Receptionist
Assessor
Driving to the assessment.
Friend: Remember not to make the best of things.
Remember how ill you are, how difficult it is.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Claimant: I always tell the doctor that I’m fine …. and go away with nothing
Friend: I know, that’s why I said it. They’re not your friends.
I’m your friend.
Their job is to catch you out and save the government money.
Claimant: I don’t know how I’ll cope if they won’t help me.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Long silence ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Friend: Why are these places so out of the way and difficult to find?
Parking car and getting out
Claimant: I feel a bit better than usual.
I think falling asleep helped.
They say they watch you from the beginning.
I’m frightened to get out of the car in case they think I look too well.
Friend: Don’t worry.
I can see how ill you are, so they should.
Remember what we read and they told us,
to think of your worst day.
Friend carries bags and takes Claimants arm to help her walk across the car park. Claimant uses a walking stick.
Inside the Assessment Centre
Friend: Can you manage these steps?
You’ll have to bend to get through that doorway.
Claimant: Why have they made us come to an old building like this?
How do they manage with wheelchairs?
Friend: Don’t worry
If you want to sit down, I’ll talk to the receptionist.
Receptionist: Hello.
How can I help you?
Friend: We’ve come for an assessment?
Receptionist: Have you got your letter dear?
Friend goes back to Claimant who looks through her bag and finds the letter.
Receptionist: Thank you.
Just to warn you, we’re running a bit late today.
Take a seat and the assessor will be with you as soon as he can.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Claimant: I wonder how long it will be………………………………….
I find it difficult to sit in one position for too long.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
They sit and stare for a long time. The Friend yawns, they sit and stare for a longer time.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Then the Claimant makes a noise, rubs her belly and stands up, but is bent over her pain.
Claimant: Can you find my tablets:
They are in the front pocket of my bag.
Friend looks in the wrong pocket and then finds it.
Claimant: Yes. That one. And the bottle of water is in the main bag…………………………………………
Thank you!
Assessor comes down the stairs
Assessor: Hello, I’ll be conducting your assessment today (looking at Friend.)
Hello (to Claimant)
I’m afraid the lift is broken so you will have to manage the stairs.
Friend: She can’t do stairs.
She put that on the form.
Assessor: Okay?….
if you could just wait a moment whilst I find a room down here.
Claimant and friend sit back down……………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Assessor: Here we are.
This way please.
They are shown into a small cramped room with only two chairs.
Assessor: I’ll just go and get an extra chair.
They sit down and the door isn’t closed. They all look at the open door. The Assessor moves his desk and chair forward so the door will close.
Claimant: I feel safer next to the door. Is it ok to move my chair next to the door?
Friend and Assessor get up and move/turn the desk and chairs completely around so that the Claimant is near the door.
Assessor: Ok, so I’ll just tell you what will happen and then we’ll get started.
It should only take about an hour of your time.
Miss, Ms ……………. Assessor looks at form.
And you are ……. He looks at the Friend.
Friend: I’m just a friend.
I helped her to get here.
Claimant: Thank you.
Assessor: Ok, I am a health professional, trained to assess people for benefits claims.
I will be going through the form and asking you a few questions to check what your needs and requirements really are.
We don’t make the final decisions on your case and are therefore not legally responsible for the outcome. I will just be advising the department of work and pensions who will make the ultimate judgement. If you aren’t happy with the outcome then you can follow the appeals procedure.
Claimant: (Interrupting) Are you a doctor?
Assessor: No, I’m a sports therapist. I am a trained health professional.
This is not a medical, but we’ll be looking at the evidence about your day to day life and what you can or cannot do.
Are you ok for us to proceed?
Claimant: Yes?…. I think so.
Assessor types on screen and then looks up.
Assessor: Where did you go to school? (smiles)
Claimant: …………(Looks confused) What?
Why are you asking me that?
Assessor: Well you seem like a clever woman, but it says on the form that you have problems with your memory and suffer from confusion.
Friend: Yes, she is an intelligent woman, but that doesn’t mean that her memory and cognition isn’t impaired.
Assessor: I see (types and looks at screen)
Assessor: So, let’s start with your daily cognitive abilities then.
In what way do you struggle with remembering things and thinking clearly?
Claimant: I find it difficult to carry out any simple task at home.
It all seems too big, too confusing and difficult.
Sorry.
Assessor: But if you are in a positive mood, you can get up and get on with things?
Friend laughs quietly.
Claimant: I rarely have positive moods and I start things and then forget what I’m doing or just can’t continue.
My husband doesn’t like me to use the cooker on my own.
Assessor: Why does this happen to you?
Claimant: Well I suppose because of the pain.
(shifts in the chair and winces)
I might not be able to sit still all the time. I might need to stand and move about.
Assessor: Ok, but tell me more about the pain. What kind of pain is it?
Claimant: It is severe pain. Physical and emotional pain.
It stops me from thinking clearly.
Assessor: But you clearly are capable of thinking clearly.
Claimant: On a good day.
Assessor: Yes, exactly……..Well done!
I Just need to ask you more about your emotional well-being and your mobility now.
I can see that you were able to get here and move around ok.
Claimant: But I am struggling with the pain.
Do you mind if I take some medication?
Assessor: Yes that’s fine, but it would be good to push on and get this thing done quickly for both of us.
Friend takes the bottle of water and pack of pills out of claimants bag and gives them to her. The
claimant puts the bottle on the floor and struggles to get a pill out of the packet. She takes a pill.
Assessor: So, …… you were able to walk across the car park to the building which is about
25 metres, but it says on your form that you struggle to walk any more than 20 metres.
Claimant: Yes, but my friend helped me.
Assessor: But it seems that on a good day you could probably manage it.
Friend: No she couldn’t manage it without me.
Claimant: And now tomorrow I will have to rest for the whole day
Assessor: We are not talking about tomorrow now.
.
Miscellaneous extra ideas and notes:
Friend needs to intervene again soon.
You have a good education, so your childhood must have been ok.
Claimant reduced to tears. Assessor summarises what she has said which makes it worse.
Asks – do you want to take a moment and marks something down/types when she says no, I’m ok.
At the end, claimant says, “well he seemed nice.”
Family – tears – suicide – tears?
Can a Feminist Pacifist Long for Revolution?
We two hungry young things
Sat on the cold kitchen lino
Backs against the cupboard
Huddled together for warmth
Watching
A full cycle
Of our first ever washing machine
Watching
Clockwise revolutions
Fast and slow
Taken by surprise
At a sudden change of direction
Watching
Sway and spin in reverse
Speaking
Little
Listening
To the sound of change
Thinking
Sometimes progress pushes us further apart
Thinking
Can a feminist pacifist long for revolution?
Peace Poems – Jill Eastland
1. Respect or lack of it
Yes, my friend was filming a peace song on the steps of the cenotaph at Whitehall,
Yes I did step up next to him to dance,
And yes, my brother did come up on his other side to join us in the dance,
Yes, we were both wearing giant paper mache bums and wiggling them provocatively,
Yes, I did follow a sudden impulse to put a wreath of red poppies on my head whilst dancing,
And yes when the police suddenly appeared and surrounded me, I did feel shocked,
Yes, when one of the shouted in my face, “that’s disrespectful”,
Yes, I did reply that I respect peace,
And yes, he did stop in his tracks,
Yes, I said that I cared about all of the victims of war,
But yes, I also said that organised war is murder and that I don’t respect it,
Yes, I did use the phrase, “poppy facism”,
Yes, I do understand the offence that I’m being charged with,
Yes, I do want to state that the war crimes that we are still committing are far worse than causing you offence.
2. Poem instigated by my confusion about statistics and rhetoric of war and peace.
Follow the leader,
Headlong down the rabbit hole,
Marching in uniformed formation,
To prescribed collective grief,
Painting the white flowers red,
And watering them with oil,
The monster fires new words,
He says we are at peace,
Things have never been so good,
But no body counts,
Sink the dormouse in our cups of tea,
Purposeful obfuscation
Of foreign secretaries Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber
You are all just a pack of cards.
Akaname
I am Akaname,
The spirit who licks,
The untidy bathroom,
Hiding my shame,
Secretly wetting
A piece of toilet paper,
To mop up some hairs and grime,
Wedged into a corner,
Swilling the sink,
With my hand,
To rinse away shavings,
Using my fingernail,
To scratch away,
A stubborn spot, a mote, a stain.
A Wooden Door
A wooden door, centre stage,
Opens to heaven, or closes on hell,
An hour glass turns and grains fall slowly,
A ledger is open upon a desk,
In an empty room,
Three actors pass back and forth,
Two leave the stage through the wings,
One is left standing on our side of the door.
Flight from Gravity and Grace
Sometimes I forget that the world is spinning beneath my feet,
That gravity holds my cup to the table,
And the table legs and my own to the floor,
That our molecules dance freely,
And are not solidly melded together.
That the clock on the mantelpiece,
Ticks out a heartbeat of arbitrarily measured existence.
Jill Eastland - Artist Activist 