When the Gun Gives Up It’s Power

It needs strength to break new ground

when it’s as hard and solid as

silence.

Or so I thought.

It needs strength to breakthrough,

to smash the mould of war

and peace.

Or so I thought.

But just suppose,

the ground gives up it’s power,

the gun refuses to fire

and they allow the flowers

to break, 

bright

delicate 

blooming

flourishing fragile.

Ready to open up

through the self shattered soil,

melting the frozen silence

to make a space

in the barrel

of the gun

an opening

for a warmth,

that will shatter

the ice,

heal the wounds,

stop the war.

I think so.

https://thebezine.com/portfolio/summer-2023/?fbclid=IwAR2zfIz15sx6BJG2SLDVNP4hIWGMjLU8JpG8NzuP9gXVGbR-0J7I9Mlwncc

 When Psychopath Met Showman

When a violent psycho with overwhelming power

meets a deluded showman with a hero complex

it’s looking bleak for those caught in between.

Those displaced from their homes,

displaced from their lives,

those losing their lives.

those losing the life 

they expected to live,

More and more of them,

a stream without end

as the show goes on.

https://thebezine.com/portfolio/summer-2023/?fbclid=IwAR2zfIz15sx6BJG2SLDVNP4hIWGMjLU8JpG8NzuP9gXVGbR-0J7I9Mlwncc

 The Taste of War

Peace is more 

than the absence of war

though that would be a start.

But the dissolving of boundaries

constructed by humans

to cordon off one from the other

must follow

so there is no need

to shout across the divide

in our different languages.

Only then can we whisper

and hug our way to peace.

What we have now

still tastes like war

to me.

https://thebezine.com/portfolio/summer-2023/?fbclid=IwAR2zfIz15sx6BJG2SLDVNP4hIWGMjLU8JpG8NzuP9gXVGbR-0J7I9Mlwncc

 A Day At The Races

My boyfriend was keen on The Races.

Colourful and exciting he told me,

with a fairground atmosphere.

I believed him. 

I expected a fairground as well

I don’t know why

perhaps he told me so

and I believed him.

It was muddy, very muddy.

All the colours were mud colour.

The horses ran past quickly once or twice each hour.

In between you could walk round

slipping and sliding in the mud.

There was no fairground, 

no atmosphere,

there was nothing.

He was miserable,

he’d lost money

even on his ‘each way’ bets.

You’ll be as surprised as I was to know 

that ‘each way’ does not mean win or lose.

It was cold, really, really cold.

He said I was miserable.

Of course I was miserable!

It started to drizzle.

“They’re under starters orders now!

Look they’re off.”

So was I,

I went home on the bus.

https://www.amazon.com/No-One-Should-Kiss-Frog/dp/199058912X/

https://thegraveyardzine.wixsite.com/my-site/issue-five

 

 https://thegraveyardzine.wixsite.com/my-site/issue-five

 United We Fall

The bodies are piling up 

again 

as past becomes present

again.

A different time,

a different place,

different victims

and survivors

united

by innocence,

by grief

by failure,

failure 

to protect

failure

to police

united

by the failure

of lawmakers,

of elected 

and electors.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

So we cry out,

we victims who survived

you failed us

failed us

failed us.

Even the dead whisper an echo

but only the deaf will hear.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/16bfx3-SDPoAALl6gEgxIpalFHVXzqprt/view

 To Be A Hero

Hero or villain,

it all depends

on which side you’re on,

on whose story is most powerful,

on who you believe.

Hero or victim,

it all depends

on whose story is most powerful,

on who you believe,

on whose story is most powerful,

on where you come from,

on which side you’re on.

Heroes, victims and villains.

Heroes are fleeting

as a moment.

Villains last longer.

Victims last forever.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/16bfx3-SDPoAALl6gEgxIpalFHVXzqprt/view

     Getting Married

Let’s get married, you said.

I sat up quickly and 

just in time,

stopped my mouth saying, 

After two days?

You’re going mad!

Why? Where’s the gain?

We’ve already said we’ll stay together,

You with me or me with you,

and care for each other,

and make love to each other.

We don’t need a piece of paper

saying Mr and Mrs.

Anyway, you don’t have a good record

when it comes to marriage.

Or so I’ve heard, I said.

I think I want an extra tie,

another binding, a public one.

So that your friends 

would ring you up, concerned,

and warn you not to go ahead.

And mine would try to find you

to do the same and worry

about my sanity.

But not for long.

We’ll do it quick, you said.

https://nationalbeatpoetryfoundation.org/

And then we can smile behind their backs

as they check our progress down the years,

amazed that we’re still together,

still like each other, still love.

And, after all, I have a much worse record 

of not being married.

So, let's get married, you said.

 Stuff

It’s easy for me.

Even though I’ve planned it

and psyched myself up,

when I walk into the shop 

and see rail upon rail of stuff

it overwhelms me,

I can’t be bothered to look,

can’t be bothered

to sort through it all.

It takes only seconds for me to realise

that my jacket,

or jeans,

or coat,

or shirt

are good for a few more years.

It’s harder for those who shop as a hobby,

who get a buzz like a shot of tequila

from the pleasure of buying new,

especially when it’s so cheap,

but we’re drowning in it

all the stuff.

It’s squeezing us out of our homes,

filling up our land

stifling our oceans,

burning up our planet

with it’s non stop production

and speedy conversion to rubbish.

It’s those little things

and some people just don’t buy it!

https://nationalbeatpoetryfoundation.org/