Thursday, December 02, 2004 NO WAY MRS QUEEN ‘Benjamin Zephaniah OBE - no way Mr Blair, no way Mrs Queen. I am profoundly anti-empire’ -- ‘This OBE thing is supposed to be for my services to literature, but there are a whole lot of writers who are better than me, and they're not involved in the things that I'm involved in. All they do is write; I spend most of my time doing other things. If they want to give me one of these empire things, why can't they give me one for my work in animal rights? Why can't they give me one for my struggle against racism? What about giving me one for all the letters I write to innocent people in prisons who have been framed? I may just consider accepting some kind of award for my services on behalf of the millions of people who have stood up against the war in Iraq. It's such hard work - much harder than writing poems.’ -Poet BenJamin Zephaniah quoted from a Guardian interview in November 2003 commenting on his refusal to accept the Order of the British Empire- -- Bought and Sold Smart big awards and prize money Is killing off black poetry It's not censors or dictators that are cutting up our art. The lure of meeting royalty And touching high society Is damping creativity and eating at our heart. The ancestors would turn in graves Those poor black folk that once were slaves would wonder How our souls were sold And check our strategies, The empire strikes back and waves Tamed warriors bow on parades When they have done what they've been told They get their OBEs. Don't take my word, go check the verse Cause every laureate gets worse A family that you cannot fault as muse will mess your mind, And yeah, you may fatten your purse And surely they will check you first when subjects need to be amused With paid for prose and rhymes. Take your prize, now write more, Faster, Fuck the truth Now you're an actor do not fault your benefactor Write, publish and review, You look like a dreadlocks Rasta, You look like a ghetto blaster, But you can't diss your paymaster And bite the hand that feeds you. What happened to the verse of fire Cursing cool the empire What happened to the soul rebel that Marley had in mind, This bloodstained, stolen empire rewards you and you conspire, (Yes Marley said that time will tell) Now look they've gone and joined. We keep getting this beating It's bad history repeating It reminds me of those capitalists that say 'Look you have a choice,' It's sick and self-defeating if our dispossessed keep weeping And we give these awards meaning But we end up with no voice. From: Too Black, Too Strong. Published by Bloodaxe Books (2001) -- http://books.guardian.co.uk/poetry/features -- posted by Walter at 12/2/2004