Hoovers or Hammers?

Stressed. Emergency situation.  Needed a new hoover. Couldn’t afford a brand new one. Thought I’d search on eBay.

Then a man knocked on my door.

“Looking for a vacuum cleaner by any chance, sir?”

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“I work for GCHQ, Project Prism. I know everything. I know you’ve just moved into this flat. I know the previous tenants were here for thirteen years and left a right tip. I know you want a cheap machine that’ll do a good job- and I’ve got just the one for you.”

Now, I don’t usually entertain intrusive government agents- but I was desperate.

I took the hoover and got to work. He told me it would pick up all dust, debris, crumbs and cobwebs within a flash. Have everything back to normal. In no time, show time!

But it was like a wild pitbull off its leash.

It sucked up every last thing: my furniture, my electricals, food in my cupboards (although in return it spat out some food bank vouchers).

Sucked up savings in my shoebox, my mother’s wheelchair; sucked up books I needed for studying at university- now to replace them it will cost me thrice as much.

with a bag. It used some wizard like technology which magically sent everything it sucked into the vaults of the world’s investment banks.

I looked in the box for th

Sucked up the medicine for my chronic condition, even my Polish wife’s passport and the doctor’s note which signed me off work; then it started revving its greedy arse up and down the streets of the country sucking up all social housing. Even threatened to suck up the mosques I pray in and the Islamic school my brother studies at.

I tried to open up the bag, get all my stuff back out.  But the hoover never came

e instruction manual to see what the wizardry was. It was printed in capital letters: NEO-LIBERALISM.  There was a little hand written note on a post-it on the back of the manual. It simply said: You’ve been RBSd: Royally Bitch Slapped!

I used a hammer to smash the hoover to pieces. No manufacturer, whatever the colour of their brand, be it red, yellow or purple, should get away with making such a hoover again.

It wasn’t just any old hammer I picked up. Though it had no branding, etched in small letters on the left side were the words: Made in Solidarity.

Now, every night before I sleep I ask myself- what will win the soul of the land: hoovers or hammers?

Hamish Kamoshi © 2015


Je Suis Non Charlie


I am not Charlie

Because I do not use freedom of speech to attack the powerless

Because to do so is not brave, it is arrogance seduced by cowardice

I am not Charlie

Because Charlie is a hypocrite and he serves the powers of a land

That still drips with colonial blood of Africans and Arabs on its hands

I am not Charlie

Because Charlie marches with the world’s tyrants arm in arm

And receives state funding to provoke the vulnerable into causing harm

I am not Charlie

Because you can’t defend freedom but support women’s modesty being banned

Because he is whipping up hysteria to support war in another land

I am not Charlie

Because Charlie is using our sympathy to justify discrimination

And fooling us all into supporting intolerant desecration

I am not Charlie

Hopefully I never will be, and you will realise you are not either

Or we will all end up as flies on the web- spun by Big Brother’s spider.

Hamish Kamoshi © 2015


Office Tweeter Socially Benchmarking

Ah, the way the wind blows

Matters not to men in offices insulated

But ask the fisherman casting his net on the soul grating sea

Or the red cheeked child with ebullient eyes

To whom the parade of kites portrays a world of rainbow possibility.

Ah, the comma. Just a squidgy dot, waste of space

Matters not to the frenetic tweeter

But ask the teacher who commits her life

To a generation

Who’ll either plant trees or start fires,

Depending on whether they had enough time

To, for reflection, pause.

Ah, the pen marks on the wall

Scars on the beautiful flower pattern

To the Joneses.

For the mother, a reminder timeless of days innocent

Before Responsibility’s wings

Flew her young from the nest.

Hamish Kamoshi ©2015

Propagandist Chauffeurs

Not much time left to prevent your mind’s theft

smash and grab out there, it’s a crime fest

like strong winds they want to hurry Kane

to slay his own brother so the money’s gained

anaesthetic in the air they are numbing brains

taking food off the table only crumbs remain

with rich man’s greed every slum is stained

find a scapegoat, who do you wanna blame?

the sick and disabled and the immigrants?

politicians making criminals out of innocents

stealing with prosthetic hands, avoiding fingerprints

we’ve lost sight of truth cos we’re in the midst

of propagandist chauffeurs, driving us to nightmares

shutting schools down, opening Starbucks there

caffeine overload; no sleep so no dreams

of a future where every child sings instead of screams

Hamish Kamoshi © 2014