© Alan Ashton Smith 2012

© Anna McCrory 2013

This is for the women whose posture says
“Fuck you, punk. I got this covered.
Maybe I’ll call you. Maybe.”
This is for the women who’ve come too damn far
To waste their time worrying whether you approve.
This is for the women who wear what they want, swear how they want,
Drink and fuck and love and fight
And wring every ounce like it’s only their business-
Because it is.
And they’ve realised.

This is for the girl in class who’s done with playing dumb-
Yes, she knows the answer-
Yes no one else has put their hand up for the last ten minutes-
Yes the teacher is looking past her raised hand asking-
“Does anyone know the answer? Anyone… else?”
But she’ll be damned if she’s gonna hide her own light.

This is for the gaybar barmaids
Who know their regulars inside and out
And wear those memories proud, like diamonds.
This is for the sweet little old lady
With the dirtiest laugh in the nursing home.
This is for my Godmother Sara – terminal, regal,
And educating her doctors about the munchies.

This is for the liberated women
Who worked past violence and ridicule
To ensure their daughters never needed to be liberated-
Their daughters were never enslaved.

This is for the tough old birds and the earnest youngsters
Who know that life is too personal, too precious,
Too Goddamn important
To let the magazines take a slice.

This is for the women who’ve stopped counting calories
And started counting stars.

This is for Dorothy Parker’s forked tongue
Patti Smith’s horses
Boudicca’s chariots
And Rosa Parks’ tired feet.
This is for the women we could be, can be, will be
Just as soon as we stop asking permission
To be.

© Hannah Eiseman-Renyard 2013

© Chris Kraken 2012

We say “stop the arms trade! In this building right here, right now, people are making deals to sell arms to corrupt regimes who will use those weapons on civilians.”
You say we’re causing a breach of the peace.

I say “that’s my bike chain. See my bike helmet? See my bike? That’s my bike chain.”
You say I’m carrying a weapon.

But we’ll see your bullshit
And we’ll raise you.

We’ll raise our voices, we’ll raise our fists
We’ll raise teams of legal observers to march in our midsts
We’ll raise awkward questions and what’s more as well
We’ll see your bullshit

We’ll call your bullshit
And we’ll raise hell.

Of course you’ll see this and you’ll raise us
But we knew you would: it doesn’t phase us
It’s a challenge that we’ll gladly take
‘Cause there’s more than inconvenience at stake:
You only do this ’cause you’re paid by the hour
While it’s justice that calls us to speak truth to power.

And we’ll raise petitions, we’ll raise court cases
We’ll raise placards and tents and occupy your spaces
And more than that we’ll raise our sights
‘Cause you only want us to go away;
We want justice, fairness and human rights.

And you’ll see what we do and again you’ll raise us
And it’s a pain in the arse but it doesn’t phase us
Because of stop and search we won’t carry ID
But our words and our message and our feet will run free
And you’ll use whatever you can to shut us up
- because that’s just what you do -
But we’ll see your bullshit
We’ll call your bullshit,
And believe us: we will raise you.

© Hannah Eiseman-Renyard 2012

In queues
In stalls
In fashion
Insolvent
In aftersun
    In tents.

In flip-flops
In wellies
Inelegant
In mud
Indefinitely
    In tents.

Insomnia
Inadvertent
Insult
In tears
Intervene
    In tents.

In grass
In smoke
Ingenious!
In heaps
In giggles
    In tents.

In bottles
Intoxicated
Incapable
In trouble
In hand
    In tents.

In the morning
Indisposed
Inevitably
Insufficient
In rizlas
    In tents.

Introductions
Indescribable
Intriguing
Individuals
Into you
    In tents.

In glances
Indiscrete
Insatiable
In love
Indecent
    In tents.

In hugs
In hysterics
In our prime
Incandescent
In celebration
    In tents.

In photos
In memories
In my dreams
In goofy hats
In arcadia
    In tents.

© Hannah Eiseman-Renyard 2010

© Chris Farnell 2011

you question how hard that is
i say as hard as swans

you say swans are hardly hard
i say they’re evil, long-necked bastards

you tell me to stop being cynical about swans
i think you fall in love as hard as i do

© Niall Spooner-Harvey 2011

© Cara Penny Church 2011