we touched the sky

with suffered silos:

feigned gates on which my love might hang 

scabbed wreaths creaking in idle winds

peppered, long-feln

to keep the flies off 

to keep some facsimile of youth intact

another field-dressed carcass

only good for sausage

by the watershed.

 

ground is a funny word, isn't it? 

rough-hewn earths and

torn up turfs and

a finer...

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You wear your sins like royal thread,

a crown of thorns upon your head.

Your hands have built, your hands have torn,

they’ve held me close, they’ve left me worn.

 

The world cries out, it speaks your name,

etched in echoes carved by flame.

Yet in the dark, where no one sees,

you whisper love like dying leaves.

 

I hope it rains in hell—

not to quench your fire,

...

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Civilians lie, annoyingly dead,

Innocent prey of the enemy’s sport,

While wannabe gods in Washington cry:

‘You losers! We told you. It's all your fault.’

Others in Ukraine, spared till now, await

A shabby, hardly necessary fate,

And wriggle in the web where they are caught.

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In the yard's dust-bowl kingdom, hens

Scratch their ancient rhythms. Until

Blood springs – a single drop

Like a red asterisk in white feathers.

 

Then something older than bone

Switches on behind her eye. Machinery

Of beak and claw engages, pre-programmed,

As if the first raptor never died.

 

Her neck snakes forward, hooked weapon

Drilling deep, each strike

A vi...

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In a calculated spectacle, Trump and Vance sought to humiliate Zelenskyy before the press, twisting truth into propaganda. Their goal? To paint Ukraine as ungrateful, to justify betrayal, and to sell capitulation as "peace." Behind them loomed Putin, tightening his grip as Trump bent to his demands. This wasn’t diplomacy—it was deception, staged for the American people and the world.

 

Tru...

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This poem reflects the urgent and growing tensions Europe faces—internally divided and externally threatened. With rising dangers from Russia, China, and a shifting American stance, it paints a vivid picture of the consequences of inaction.

Europe, listen—time runs thin, The storm is howling, wars begin. Trump builds walls, his hunger grows, Grabs at lands where cold wind blows. Not jus...

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This sonnet critiques the dangerous alliance between powerful tech moguls and a corrupt political figure, symbolised by the "four musketeers" who bow to Trump’s person, influence and might. It explores their sycophantic behaviour, the manipulation of media, and the betrayal of values for profit and power. The poem hopefully paints a chilling portrait of cowardice dressed as strength and the erosio...

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