Marc D Brown is a Yorkshire poet with a less common approach to poetry, a way that has been described as more lyrical and free verse.
Marc has been writing poetry and lyrics since the age of 15, now nearly 35 is currently working on his fourth collection titled ‘CHANGE’ due for release late 2020 – early 2021.
Other collections are
1. Words of Marc D Brown
3. The Lost Art of Self
What gave us the right to define borders and where they sit? For the majority It’s just luck of the draw we’ve just gotta deal with it. Creating countries, cities, counties, towns and states Creating divisions, inequality, ignorance and hate. What gave us the right to say “No Sir, you can’t cross this line” and “No Madam, you can’t stay here”? What gave us the right to instil such feelings? Discontent for one another As easy as breathing Like we have some privileged unspoken right To pick and choose Exerting dominance and might We’re constantly swayed Advertising, social media, governments With hidden agendas Bombings, stabbings, beatings broadcasted Until intolerance runs through our veins Elected officials and the powers that be Running a muck Reigning supreme Forever making bad decisions And though we don’t always agree For some reason we put up with it Turning the other cheek What gave them the right to so proudly sing? We do on a daily basis When ignorance is bliss And compliance is everything.
Red & Yellow Bricked Town Houses
Red & yellow bricked town houses Three or four in a row Over the road from the grey painted council flats That reek of oppression On a street that's seen better days Those kind of streets that everybody knows Weather battered Rubbish littered Tarmac punished Graffiti stained It's hidden in plain sight A maze like system A strange little place Alley ways & dead ends I've watched junkies on the hunt Trying to navigate That school once burned down That shop was held up at axe point But I'm just driving through Doors locked and windows up Inching along in the traffic that all had the same idea To take this quicker not so scenic route An urban safari Until we're funnelled out to the river That sits beyond a ‘T’ junction At the bottom of this tattered road Turn left or turn right
Tempting as It May Be…
The devils hand weighs heavy Upon my shoulder Cold breath on my neck Chills me to the core But to be perfectly honest I see the appeal Of anarchy Of chaos A revolution against man A revolution against God
imagine being punished for who you are not for actions or ideologies But WHO YOU ARE imagine losing your identity becoming "another" becoming a number a statistic... imagine being labelled as something lesser for centuries only there to take orders a living human being with hopes & dreams used as a workhorse imagine having to fear for your life from the people "protecting" you being profiled seen as guilty before you even know what's actually going on imagine being publicly shamed in front of a crowd imagine pleading for your life imagine crying out for your dead mother imagine losing control of your bladder in the middle of the street on camera imagine someone's bodyweight pressed upon your neck imagine blacking out imagine never coming back around imagine that's how you died physically oppressed on the ground no matter how much I try to imagine and question why? I'll never fully be able to grasp it. being a white man I never will But I will always try