Check Point Charlie 1

Brendan Curran ✒ with a poem from his expansive body of work.

They walk right out in front of you, slowly raising their arm up high,

They point their finger in a direction, to an imaginary car lay bye

He walks over beside you, with not a smile or a grin,

He asks you for your name, where you are going, and where you have bin

♞♜♝

The tall one with the radio, hunched against the toy shop door

Calls through the vehicle registration, like so many times before

The first one starts to write your name, in his little black note book

Walking from the front to back, then barks . . . open up your boot

♞♜♝

The stop and search harassment, is the little game that they play

To put the pressure on you, to try to stop your rebel ways

The radio comes back crackling, in answer to the call,

He’s Charlie 1, spread-eagle him, put him up against the wall

♞♜♝

The harassment gets more serious now, to try and make you pay

For the death of all soldiers, that’s got killed along the way

But with the watch towers and street searches, they will not get their way

All the beatings and killings will not defeat our rebel ways

* Charlie 1 - British army code word for terrorist suspect*

⏩ Brendan Curran, The Poet Without A Pen.