Cities – 3

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creative, faith, history, poems, poetry, verse, war, writing

I stand

Stand on the high ground

The victim of

Your disease,

I watch

Watch with a glass eye

As you destroy

What you once made,

I see

See with perception

The jealousy

That you deny,

My limbs

Limbs you have shattered

That held you once

In my heart,

Your hands

Hands of destruction

That turned from me

On a whim,

I fall

Fall on my own sword

A victim of

Your designs,

I cry

Cry as the guns sing

A broken shell

To breath no more.

My Sister’s Heart

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conflict, creative, Equality, faith, Feminist, Fight, Justice, photography, poems, poetry, Resistance, Sisterhood, verse, war, Women, writing

My sister’s heart

Lies in the sand

Where your hatred

Buried it,

But it still beats

And calls her home

In camouflage

Bearing arms.

 

My sister’s heart

Lies in the sand

A shallow grave

Without mark,

But it still beats

Inside your head

Pulses strong to

Track you down.

 

My sister’s heart

Lies in the sand

But will not sleep

Lonely, cold,

And still it beats

And always will

Until it finds

Its peace.

‘Glory, boy; glory’

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conflict, creative, Creative writing, death, loss, poems, poetry, war

Caught in the web

Of nationalistic pride

Swept on by the cries

Of ‘Glory, boy; glory’

The lad grows man

Before her eyes

The mother whose wave

Dries tears on her cheek,

Against the backdrop

Of futures left bleak

By ruin and greed

Things he’ll never see

The promise like sunrise

Shines down on him now

As foreign fields beckon

To him and his pals,

And as the day dawns

And bleeds into night

No respite no pity

From the blind and the deaf

He sees in one flourish

The lies he was told

And he cries like a child

As he sinks in his hole.

Syrian Nights (Not for us)

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creative, hatred, poems, poetry, verse, war, writing

Not for us
The tears and pain
The anger and the rage,
Not for us
The song of hate
A river through your veins,
Not for us
Dogmatic words
Which serve to fuel your cause,
Not for us
The lightning tree
That will not bend and sway,
Not for us
The tears and pain
Yet still you use our name.

Parisian Tears

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creative, death, loss, Paris, poems, poetry, verse, war, writing

Raise the blade and
Make the cut again
Wasted flesh too soon
Spills from the kidney dish
Strip away humanity
Compassion and respect
No hope for understanding
Empty shells are left
Intravenous hatred
The bodies mount once more
As hope lies drowned in blood
Upon the theatre floor.

On occidental shores

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creative, hatred, ignorance, Philosophy, poems, poetry, verse, war, writing

On occidental shores they wait
The invisible divide
Locusts on the scent once more
Yearn for the call to flight,
And to the skies they turn their eyes
To justify their wills
And shun the greater calling
That begs for us to hear,
Passion fires hate-stoked burn bright
By enemies imagined
And vitriolic words thrown
On pathways for our safety,
The fear we fear kept far at bay
By raising terror’s arm
Deflecting from the truth
In blame we find our hope,
And cast our gaze to higher law
Regardless of a name
We shift our eyes to distant shores
Let hatred bury love.

A Ruined State

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creative, loss, poems, poetry, verse, war, writing

A ruined street

A ruined state

Broken walls pock-marked

Adolescent skin

Scars that cry out

To be healed

Still worn with

Pride of ignorance

Fear and hate and

Words from those

Who falsely take the crown

And steal our Faith

Beneath a flag

To justify a claim.

A ruined street

A ruined state

Broken faces to the sky

Ever waiting for a saviour

Waiting still

In vain.

 

Eyes Away

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conflict, creative, death, poems, poetry, politics, verse, war, writing

Blistered images
Pictures fractured, torn
Humanity shattered
Scarlet pools
Evaporating like dreams
Beneath a mocking
Sun god
Whose laughter rings
Clear over
The exploding back-beat
A ceaseless rhythm
Pounding skins
The big finish
The chaotic crescendo
That never comes
As Jazz-like
The players search
For the killer note
The deathly chord
With which to stun
And silence
The pleading throng
Whose voices lost
Lie broken
Amidst the shrapnel
And charred-black
Body parts of those
Who saw no need
Yet were the fodder
Of foolish greed
That has no recourse
To higher law –
And who’s to say
It’s all the same –
And still the salt falls
Drowned silent by
Blame and counter-blame
And a sky lit beautiful
A midnight rainbow
Beneath which
No gold glitters
And hope lies twisted
In hues of retribution
And those who cry
‘Is this what we’ve become?’
As in water’s flow
They wash their hands
And turn their
Eyes away.

And Still

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conflict, creative, poems, poetry, verse, war, writing

Glazed in comfort
Sanctimonious words
Which fill the vacuous caverns
That spread from ear to ear
Worthless rhetoric
From those designed
Not to hear or cast a care
To those who live in hope
In towers always looking down
Decisions thrown to suit themselves
With nods and winks and smiles
Self satisfying gestures to the end
Turning cards and tossing dice
To win the endless game
Of calculated moves
And sacrificial pawns
Wrapped up in names and promises
They swim to catch the Sun
But never leave their tribe
And still the children die.

This is a response to a prompt by Vic Linde – check out her site!

Nationalism

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conflict, creative, poems, poetry, verse, war, writing

I have no home,

No state, no nation

No roots to bind and tie

And nothing is all I ask of you.

I will not take,

Nor expect your shelter,

Or live within the lies

Which beg my blind allegiance.

I will not kill,

Or die for you

As you set your Will against,

The brotherhood in which we all are one.