Let’s Dance It Out Tonight

Let’s dance it out tonight.
Shake the tail feathers,
Discard the clip-on tie,
Drink wine from the bottle.
You don’t need that name-tag on.
Here, your name is Freedom,
With a capital F for Fuck yes!

Let’s dance it out tonight.
That pile of papers would
Make for great confetti,
Fake snow, let’s pretend
It’s Christmas now, here’s
A gift – no work tomorrow!
Let the computers sleep.

Let’s dance it out tonight.
I’ll sing with you, forget
That you periodically cough
On my keyboard. You’re my
Mate now, and it’s all of us on
The sixth floor, hungry for more
Beer, more wine, more time.

When The Felbriggs Won The Lottery

The youngest cruises along Ham Road, revving his sports car
Down the cobble, startling the ducks in the brush.
Tinted windows hide the boy who used to drag a stick
Against the scaffolding, and hop-scotched his way along the tracks.

The eldest appears in church, tanned and pedicured. Her thick, silver
Bangles rattle as she yawns at the back, loudly kneading a wad of gum.
She stares through her sunglasses, one eye on the clock,
The other on her phone, dashing thumbs on the screen.

I found the mother marvelling the rich tea biscuits, the ones
Coated in milk chocolate. I hope she takes them home, scatters them
On an old plate, patterned with flowers and bramble, and watches
Television with her feet up, knowing nothing has to change.

Gibley Finds: Poetry

Heaven and Hell are perhaps two of the most featured locations in literature. Depictions can range from Biblical standards, which includes fiery pits and fluffy clouds, to vivid realities that resemble our day to day lives. In the latter, Lucifer and Beelzebub don’t have to be present to parallel a place to the torturous domain – especially in good writing.

On the subject, Josh (Reddit user /u/bubeez) has kindly let us feature his piece. This was an absolute pleasure to read. Brilliant imagery, powerful language and a gripping opening with alliteration that rings; Ginsberg would be proud. It’s gritty, it’s glum and it’s refreshing perspective will stick with you as it did us.

To contact Josh, if need be, please email bubeez@berkeley.edu. We’ll be on the look out for more from him.


“I Found Hell In A Gas Station In California”–

I found hell in a gas station in the humdrum slums of farmland California;
In the eyes of the wretched gatekeepers living in the neon hope of the gas prices;
The town of twenty trapped by tilled trenches tasked with too much time;
They wash their cracked hands, their laboured faces, their souls for imperfections, but
The dirt never leaves their lungs, their muddy breath forced to cough and croak songs without music.

Under that neon lamplight, mothers bring their children to the flies, like a baptism for the dead;
The children shove their faces into the gas station windows, or else watch the backs of their fathers
Who look onto their land, its illimitable suffering, and roll it up into suicide cigars.

Red Rex

There’s a photograph of three men stood under a tall, redwood tree.
They hold a banner above their heads. In thick, black letters,
It reads: Stop the chop! Keep the giants! Red Rex lives!
Six eyes stare deep through the lens that speak
Determination, resilience and strength.
Although the three men took on their duties,
To wars, to work, to women,
Although the three men returned together,
To friends, to family, to feed,
Although the three men succumbed and fell
To old age, to accident, to cancer,
The grainy photograph remains on my mantlepiece,
And the tree remains the king of the forest.