Death is another country

excerpt of a new poem & notes from the 4am diaries

death is another country

and look at what they have done

they bring calamity upon us all

they have kept from the gods 

the dead that is theirs

refused righteous burial and 

denied mourners peace and grace

human dignity has been monstrously violated

they will be forever famous now

as architects of mass murder

aligned with deeds diabolical

from your train window

see the corruption of dogs

that glut themselves on corpses

the black crows beaks tearing at truth

the politicians tongues 

dirty with passing blame

death is another country

another country is home

fat cats gorge on 

the bone marrow of humanity

these crimes are in everything, airborne, spreading

death colours the tap water, you taste it in your tea

destruction vibrates from tree roots to the underworld

through the mycelium, the mushroom, the moss and lice

the rats and mice … a snake eats its own rattle

death is another country 

and that country is here

that bone is our bone, 

that orphan, that widow

all ours, all yours, all gone

what is this but a wild disregard 

for the sanctity of life?

if death is another country

another country is right here

the train carriage is filling 

with a thick smoke

a fog of misinformation

powerful men fight 

orphans and corpses

using the most advanced 

technology known to man

to obliterate, evaporate 

the barefoot in flimsy tents

blood stains so vast 

they can be seen from space

what glory?

what honour in any of this killing?

what profits made in the trade of arms and legs

burnt nightingales fall from the sky

a last sad note choked into the dawn

this locomotive is out of control

the train is now in flame

the tracks all bent and broken

the station is a fiery hell hole

the destination is ash

death is another country 

and this country is home

Extract of poetry written for ‘Sympoesia’ performed April 30th, at the QEH, Southbank as part of the Multitudes Festival. Collaboration of poetry and music, Out-Spoken and the London Sinfonietta. This poem was written to an epic rendition of Steve Reich’s ‘Different Trains’

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Hello my substack friends,

It’s been a while since I shared some 4am diaries, how are you?

Are you getting much sleep? Are you awake with me at 4am? Can you see this beautiful May dawn light? I’m not supposed to be here, but here I am, watching and noticing the soft peach and pinks in the May skies, listening to the dawn chorus and sipping some mint tea. Are you ok? Are you looking after your bold hearts and big dreams? Not easy is it.

What a mess.

In every direction there is chaos, calamity, catastrophe. It feels like all the sections are wrong, like the forks are muddled up in the spoons section, like all the pieces of us are scattered. It feels like the script of this episode of you and me is being writen by a maniac sniffing glue. The news keeps reminding me of boys in the playground at school kicking the bins to make wasps fly out and getting angry when they get stung. Fuck about and find out over and over again.The consequences of all of this, the divisions, the bubbling hatred, the violence, this vibration, this unease, all the energy of humanity is cornered and angry and confused and frustrated and frightened and sick and tired as this ooze of misinformation and wildly unchecked macho egomania spreads like a stinky toxic treacle sticking to every leaf and idea, every wing and cloud of thought. It feels like our world needs to be drenched with sea salt and sage and rose petals and rosemary, take a deep breath, but maybe that’s just me.

I’m going away on a Writers Retreat and just packing.

I am a little burnt out and I have an injury so I cannot bounce about as much as usual. I have to go slow and be gentle. Current situation is: I am channelling Owl instead of my usual Tigger energy in my Winnie The Pooh version of the world and I’m working hard not to go full Eeyore. Haha. People are funny. We are so good at giving advice and being a good nurse to loved ones and caring for others, but tend to treat the self like a scrap yard. As I write this there are sea gulls circing the bin that is my head, a stained mattress is my brain, a smashed TV screen for my face, a oil spill is in my blood, my bones feel like rusty bicycle spokes. You get the picture.

I need to go tapping into the magic again, to hear myself think, to go offline, and let go of the business side of books and dump the distractions. I know I am lucky, it is a rare chance. I don’t have to teach to earn my time there, I just have to go write, dream, think, be. It is a truly wonderful opportunity provided by Writers Mosaic and RLF. I applied to go to this magic place to start work on a secret new project last year and ages ago and I got this slot for May 2026 and well, suddenly, it is now May 2026? Time sped up? I’ll share and write more about this writing adventure and how I get on later.

The poetry I share above is from the wonderful Sympoesia at QEH, Southbank. This was a collaboration of Out-Spoken poetry and epic classical music by The London Sinfonietta. I was delighted to be asked to write a piece and contribute and honoured to share the stage with such inspirational and talented artists. Gigs like this are always lots of hard work and team work behind the scenes, with so many ideas and visions coming together, but the result onstage was a truly beautiful experience, and a meaningful and powerful show speaking about genocide and war, collective action and hope.Thank you to all who came to see us, thank you to the Southbank team and thanks to my fellow poets Joelle Taylor, Anthony Anaxagorou and Jay Bernard.

Last week I was invited to be a special guest at the ACS Formal Dinner, Trinity, Cambridge University. The ACS is the African Caribbean Society at Cambridge, champions the voices of African and Caribbean descent. It was the most refreshing and memorable evening, sharing delicious Caribbean food and lively conversations. I went with my agent Crystal Mahey-Morgan and we sat with the brightest and most interesting and engaging souls. It was a pleasure to read some poetry there and fill the hallowed halls of Cambridge with love, joy and pride. I believe the children are the future…

Summer Dates:

June 26th: Royal Festival Hall

June 27th: Ledbury Poetry Festival

July 23 - 26: Latitude Festival

My next event: It Sounds Like Courage: Music and Solidarity is on Friday 26th June 2026, 7.30pm. Music and spoken word shaped by migration, co-curated by Anoushka Shankar and Counterpoints Arts. Hosted by comedian Nish Kumar, this performance brings together award-winning Palestinian singer, composer, and flautist Nai Barghouti, conducted by Robert Ames with the London Contemporary Orchestra. There are also musical performances from renowned Kora virtuoso Seckou Keita, Afrofusion rapper MoYah, Mercury Prize-nominated songwriter Nadine Shah, and soul singer and songwriter Nectar Woode. Plus, poetry from award-winning poets Inua Ellams, Nikita Gill and Salena Godden. Featuring artists with lived experience of displacement, musicians with migrant heritage and high-profile allies in the fight for justice and equality, It Sounds Like Courage is a night to imagine new possibilities together, with community and solidarity at its centre.

tickets: https://www.southbankcentre.co.uk

And last but not least, this September sees the 10th anniversary of The Good Immigrant. And we are celebrating its induction into the British Literary Canon. Canongate has selected it for their iconic The Canons series. Very excited about this good news. Beautiful new cover. We are publishing the book in September 2026, ten years to the day after its post-Brexit release in 2016. Ten years have passed, we keep fighting the good fight. Thank you Nikesh Shukla.

Pre-order is available now and to mark the book’s 10th anniversary, editor Nikesh will chairs a series of live panels bringing together original contributors to The Good Immigrant, to reflect on what’s changed in Britain in the decade since publication, what hasn’t. To book your tickets and re-discover the collection that lit a fire and gave voice to a generation, click the link in bio or visit the Fane website: https://www.fane.co.uk/nikesh-shukla

All you fascists bound to lose.

Ok I think that’s all for now, here’s art that captures the now, the new Banksy: the man in his suit, blinded by his flag, marching into the abyss.

See you all in June, midsummers, see you at the Southbank and at Ledbury. I’m going to stare at big skies and take a deep breath and dream big dreams and make new things. Please take care of your scrap yard, eat your greens, drink plenty of water, rest when your body tells you to, and keep fighting the good fight,

With love, grief and fury,

Xxsg