Poet and activist Zita Holbourne was among the 200 people who turned out to support Martin Smith at his court hearing on 7 September.

Against a background of union banners and flags, Zita gave a poetry performance live on the steps of the court. Martin was convicted of assault on a police officer by the magistrates, on the word of a single police officer, despite the lack of evidence against him. He maintains his innocence and will appeal against the verdict.

Here are two of the poems Zita read outside the court – in a spirit of resistance and defiance.

Until the far right are history

My life’s been peppered sometimes drenched in racist attacks
My family came here to signs of no dogs no Irish no blacks
I grew up with racist abuse hurled in glee
Words that like a suture cut into me

What you can do

>> Send a message of support

>> Pass this model motion through your union branch

>> Donate towards Martin’s defence campaign

So now I have a responsibility
And the strength and ability
To stand up, fight and defend
Until we see an end

My mental scars won’t deter
I won’t be fearful of what might occur
Can’t sit back and let history repeat
Got to stand up and defeat

Whilst I’m living and breathing
I’ll never stop believing
That we can beat the far right
We can if all good people unite

Until there’s no BNP on my ballot form
Until people accept fascism’s not the norm
Until there’s no EDL on my street
Until we truly defeat

We’ve got to act urgently
There’s no room for complacency
Until the far right are history
And we truly have victory

Exiled in east london

From West African shores to the caribbean
Exile of an enslaved human being
From Caribbean shores
To England’s closed doors
Bearing signs of ‘No dogs no Irish no blacks’
Shouting out ‘Go back
To where you came from’
Assuming my home’s a land of sugar and rum

Where I’m from is a mixture of
African roots, Caribbean trunk, Spanish, French and British branches
A family tree of oppression, circumstance and chances

I can’t go back without tracing my ancestral footprints
Without carrying out DNA tests to determine my foreparents

What I know is my spirit is African
My heart is Caribbean
But best of all I’m a human being

Born here but never accepted
Because no one ever expected
Me to claim Britain as my own
Even though it’s my born and bred home

‘Where you from love’ man in the shop asked
I decided to have some fun and laughed
‘East London’ straight faced I tell him
‘Well I knew you were born ‘ere but like foreign’
He says matter of fact
I cast aside tact
Ask him ‘How can I be foreign if I’m born here?’
But as I turn away angrily in my eye there’s a tear

Exiled in east London
Exiled in my birth kingdom
Enslavement of my ancestors still determining for some my worth
But I refuse to be an exile in the land of my birth

You can see more of Zita’s poetry on her MySpace page.