Cold Comfort, Cold Concrete: Poems & Satires, Scott Kendrick (Seraph Press, 2007)

Bernard Gadd

Most of these are rap-style "rant" performance poems, in which Kendrick displays a deft competence with rhyme and rhythm. He's a useful writer for the times, his satires and barbs often being aimed at the nonsense that's in our minds courtesy of a corporate dominated media. Readers may find themselves even reeling back in horror or shock at some of the things to be found here. And that's as it should be ... there's plenty in our world to be horrified about.

'The Happy Cancer Song' is a tour de force. It captures the swirl of opposing ideas and images, rational and irrational, that rush about our minds in response to the very word: fear, defeatism, plus courage and humour that can assume the blasé:

"My family dies of Cancer; it's traditional - no way
We'd deign to die of anything less;
What would the neighbours say?
It's not for us the car crash, Alzheimer's, or aids.
No suicides. No cardiacs. no rest home lemonades." and the horror:

"Have you ever spoken with the dead and watched them force a grin?"

And a fitting finale:

"Sing a song of all our cancers,
Sing a raucous, dirty tune -
Then topple very empty bottle
And scream curses at the moon."

He's equally devastating on the war in Iraq and more particularly how it's being used to turn the whole world into a war zone:

"We were in the process of executing the men
When a child escaped his detention zone
..

Concerned for the child, I clubbed him
To the ground with my rifle, continuing

To do so until his lack of movement
Showed he no longer posed a threat to himself
                                            [Debrief]

There are the everyday things, too, like 'The Song of the Student Loan', and the 'Bedtime' advice from father to child:

"you're going to learn I can't protect you
from your fears
which you will find
are first & foremost in your mind 
...

I guess what I'm trying to tell you|
is it's a fucked up world you live in"

and even hard-edge lyricism, as in 'If the Patches on Her Jeans Could Speak'

"They were a cubist manifesto,
random patches loosely strewn
In a collage, a kaleidoscope,
A chequered quilt of colour hewn
From curtains, shirts, godawful ties ...

 ... let this truth be read -
Space is curved and time is torn."

And there's also good humoured laughter at the archetypical Kiwi joker:

"And how's the missus?
You still together?
Yeah still together
She's alright
Few ups and downs
You know how it is mate
Yeah mate
Yeah mate
Well mate
Spose                     
        [Mating Call]

One or two of these performances ramble on a bit. But it's an enjoyable collection with some well directed jabs. Poems can use the rough crude language that's common enough in pop sing culture and day-to-day- culture.

This is a review of only the first half of the book. Turn it upside down and there's a collection of selections from what the blurb describes as an "underground political satire newspaper, The Babylon Express".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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