The free press is free
Unless it says something wrong
Then it is not free

⁕ ⁕ ⁕

He read the whole terms
He agreed to sell his soul
The font was too small

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War is on the news
The anchors all wear nice suits
We change the channel

 

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How near doth Time now stand upon the verge!
Upon our days is fallen Judgment's shade.
One woe grows still, then doth another surge,
And close behind, a third comes undelayed.

Then bitter cold shall strike, and famine loom,
Our hopes shall pass beyond the shrouded bier;
The city that we cherished, once so dear,
By Heaven's will, and war, shall meet its doom.

Believe not, people, that p...

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One day all this will end.

And what will happen then?

Will we all be happy-clappy,

Clowning in the squares

And clinking glasses?

 

Or will we just blunder on

And fill up empty bar stools;

Reminiscing, telling lies,

About the good old days?

 

It’s no future, they’ll say.

But at least it’s a past,

And right now the past

Is far less painful.

 

In the en...

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There’s a sparkling new promotion in the mall at Kryvyi Rih,

A stack of tempting bargains on display;

There’s a range of cut-price goods there for all the family,

And war's games should seem many miles away.

 

But drones are heading down towards the mall at Kryvyi Rih,

They are not bothered what will cross their path;

And sixteen blameless souls which still the light of day sh...

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The metal comes a-raining down

On its mean nightly spree,

And some more are dead or wounded

Who did not need to be;

 

Those at the front who quake with fear

Crouch in a silent plea,

And, spotted like a sitting duck,

Are bombed and shelled with glee;

 

This gruesome feast of agony

Could spread to you and me,

And those who are responsible

Will still get off sco...

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We found the old man, swinging from a rope;

It seems he couldn’t take it anymore.

It seems he had outlived his memories;

He’d had two sons, both victims of the war.

 

This is reality: young lives are snatched

And parents, seeking solace, see no point

In playing games alone in this grim light,

When others seek new martyrs to anoint.

 

It’s what invaders deal in every d...

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7/7/26

ARMS RACE

 

There’s a lot of noise in the political sphere about the defence plans announced by the PM, with military leaders and defence ministers condemning it as too little. On the contrary, it seems to me that we spend too much on defence and cut spending in most other areas– including the cuts to the aid budget which not only cost lives but also reduce our soft power, make con...

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The Rite

of Spring,

of Summer,

of Autumn,

of Winter,

Sacrificial victims,

Their innocence,

Beauty and Life

destroyed to appease

their God of War,

Elbit Rules OK!

 

 

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Never mind the weather;

There are twenty seven dead.

Some dirty, stinking cowards

Dropped missiles on their head.

 

Never mind the weather:

The sunshine, cloud and rain.

The swine are filling up the sky

With lethal toys again.

 

Never mind the weather;

The outlook is quite clear.

The murderers are saving up

More death to piss down here.

 

Never mind the...

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War criminal rules:

Our Heroes made terrorists.

Remembrance flow’r crushed.

 

Le Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh,

Dé Sathairn an tríú lá déag de mhí an Mheitimh,

an bhliain dhá mhíle is fiche a sé.

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On the day of the recital

A warhead crashed down on our house.

Three of my family died

And only I survived,

But, though I shan’t find peace again

That very evening

I played, in pain.

 

The music did what music does;

I gave them Mozart, Bach and Brahms.

Soon grief seemed not to matter,

As all fell back into its arms,

And evil turned to trivial

As wonder filled

...

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Children of the Earth are born from chaos, not hope,

For that is what creation has always been.

Disruptive, disorderly, disorienting, until it grows 

Into something only a mother can glean. 

 

Chaos is where it all starts, 

The making of you, a blissfully unaware child,

Aglow in the warmth of the sun and the stars. 

Play. Pause. Rewind.

 

Play 

In the crib with a p...

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Gibberish

 

If all those dying in the fray

Were laid from end to end,

They would stretch for many a mile

And no doubt grievously offend,

Behind their desks so far away,

The same men talking gibberish

With a sickly, spray-on smile.

 

As it happens

 

No one needed to die today

But, as it happens, sixteen did.

Of the usual bagged variety:

Men, women and so...

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From the charity of distance

He thumbed his nose

As the fat soldier approached.

 

Soon, looking down the barrel,

He just had to laugh

At the soppy-serious countenance,

And kept on laughing.

 

Just then, a gun went off;

The laughter stopped.

In that brief instant,

A part of all our futures died.

 

And, for what it’s worth,

A thousand people cried.

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A man stranded, offhanded,

remarked aptly: 

“Far from the stretch,

Men should not fret.

Lo, leave that spear,

And join me in fear.”

Across the borderline, a child 

throws shrapnel

down ditch thunder—

There was not a mouth to smile under.

 

shackles bind the mouth,

The teeth shudder to utter

words that were planted.

Granted, the lips

meets the tips 

...

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Working himself into a frenzied state,

He called up his fiancée on the phone.

Excited, in a quite alarming way,

Imagining the bed on which she lay,

He cried out, in a strange, mesmeric tone:

‘Be with you soon, my love; won’t be too late!’

 

Within this sub-plot, this domestic scene,

Lurked one more exploit under his control:

A schoolyard hit, precisely as a pin,

A hun...

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Once again, our thoughts turn to Auden,

Talking art in a Europe on the brink.

As springtime breaks, the bird of peace has flown;

The sick old men dispense the taste of death.

And Icarus? Nobody would care now

(Just as no one seemed concerned at the time);

An exhibitionist whose stunt went wrong.

 

While, on streets, a billion screens flicker

With dances of destruction th...

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There seems to be a lot going on in the world, much of it unpleasant. Not that unusual you might think, but the degree of unpleasantness is higher than usual as the USA launch death and destruction on hundreds of people in Iran – many of them ordinary citizens going about their business, including children. While few would pretend that the Iranian regime is a caring or civilised one, raining death...

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Injured mother in smoke falling debris blocks her vision

Dust clouds fill her lungs as she runs,he is hidden

 

Her baby is out there!

 

Gasping for air she's spluttering out his name

His cries are drowned out overpowered by shots screams and horror

Whilst rush and panic confuse her intuition

Scarce oxygen she's hoping and wishing

Praying for the return just recently miss...

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Sunlight in their small hands,
rising beyond all brands.

Their courage goes on shining;
they were once growing wings.

Until a missile left their building crumbling,
burying, one by one, their dreams—
the wings that once were growing,
now scattered, fading.

Time refused to stop
as tears continued to drop.

Their parents were seeking
the scattered pieces of their morning.

The in...

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A village in decline,

Where young do not come back;

The old folks keep on ageing:

This is a one-way track,

 

Which is not new, of course;

It was forever thus:

Tear-stained sons and daughters

Would board the early bus.

 

But this time gaps appear,

Whose like we never saw;

The thin supply dissolves

In casualties of war,

 

For boys arrive home wrapped

A...

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As the first one fell,

They all shouted: ‘Missed!’

 

As the second one fell,

They all shouted: ‘Missed!’

 

As the third one fell –

 

Enraged, he drove to the outskirts,

Eager to conjure up the words

For death throes of expired luck,

To paint the smell of burning flesh.

 

But no words arrived. Nothing came.

Remains were pulled from the remains.

 

Late...

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Her habit, during nights deprived of peace,

Of dark skies savaged by the usual crowd,

Was to tell the world in her loudest voice:

‘For God’s sake, listen; this madness must cease!’.

But no one did, although she shouted loud.

Close by, stunned citizens with no choice

Took comfort in the echoes of her scream,

While they browsed damage as though in a dream.

 

Today she was ...

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The seams split from the land to the sea

And dreams of still waters die

The lie of open arms disintegrates

In the slither of the lullaby 

Of reasons and rhymes set to rock us to sleep

But sheep are aimless in a boundless heath

And see no route so dreaded fate ensues 

As the ocean follows the moon

And soon we’ll all be keeping score

Strike one and two, strike three and fo...

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Dearest L
The people here are rising up
Soon, the king will fall
You were right to get out
I’m beginning to learn the language
Yet, still can’t speak of all I’ve lost
At dawn, soldiers flew a bright red flag
Over Parliament Square
I pictured you on the Basilica steps
Your silk dress tailored by the breeze
One long lost afternoon
I walk the backstreets, late into the evening
Drinking in...

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training everyday
gave me this blood lust

had a fever dream
and, awoke in cold sweats

we have a safe word
that turns me off

like I’m a sleeper agent

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I think I heard a foreign leader say:

‘I haven’t focused on this for a while’;

But I must focus on it every day

And cannot fake concern or flash a smile.

 

I put my kids into the shelter’s care

And pray no missiles fall upon my place;

Each night time’s challenge is to grab some share

Of soothing sleep, with each new dawn to face.

 

My husband is still fighting at the ...

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They say that we should get in shape

And learn to take it on the chin,

Stiffen our sinews, grit our teeth;

‘Believe it, brothers, you can’t win’.

 

They say there is no difference

Between righteousness and sin;

‘It could just be that might is right’,

They tell you with their trademark grin.

 

They say we have our work cut out

Just to protect our kith and kin;

Su...

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The water they drink comes from the same well,
dug by their ancestors.
Yet the taste they receive is never the same.

The blood running through their bodies
is the blood their ancestors gave.
So why does one end up killing another?

Why is there always a part where women are raped,
when all they have ever done is raise their babies?
Why is there always a part where children,
who only wa...

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When the war comes, we try to look our best.

We comb our hair and flash a cheery smile,

While digging out our most arresting clothes.

We slap on perfume, rouge or after-shave,

To give a top impression as we queue

And trust such elaborate adornment

Will soften each and every body blow.

 

Of course, such moves are bound to be in vain;

The enemy enjoys our togged-up state

...

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At the songs of the birds,

My heart erupts with joy

And streams of colour fill my world.

 

At the songs of the trees,

I catch the rusty leaves

Which crumble, softly, in my hand.

 

At the songs of the clouds,

I imagine myself

Floating, at untold altitudes.

 

At the songs of the grass,

I listen, intently,

For unlikely scraps of news.

 

At the songs of ...

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When objects are transported we take care,

Imprinting the word ‘fragile’ on the box;

So when they are dispatched to who knows where,

They are preserved from damage and from knocks.

 

But when it’s people threatened by our strikes,

We never stick a label on their backs;

Presuming they form part of our dislikes,

We offer no protection from attacks.

 

Perhaps a living pa...

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I wonder and I often weep

When I see children fast asleep,

While shells and missiles thunder down

On streets and building in their town.

 

They’ve grown accustomed to the noise

Of their enemy’s grotesque toys;

Oblivious to every bang,

As though some modest church bell rang.

 

They run to schoolyards, as they must,

Past dwellings crumbling to dust,

And all, at le...

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Slumber remains in restlessness, come east or west

Come rising, falling chest, come worst or best

 

Mindlessness parallels the weight of the world

That never ceases to spin when Armageddon unfurls

 

A mothers heart shatters by the blowing of candles

She’s 5, he’s 8 by ruinous shambles

 

Ribcages protrude at the foot of the table

Not a scrap to be offered come frail, c...

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I had a quick glance at the stats,

At these cold additions of shame;

The dead are piled high with the wounded,

And we all know who is to blame.

 

It doesn’t seem to worry him;

That victims were daughters and sons,

Whose parents will not see again

Their cherished, most beloved ones.

 

Because of one man’s vanity,

These young lives have gone up in smoke.

If he had...

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Dear God

Forgive me for asking

Where are you when the killing in Gaza continues every day?

Where Israelites killing Palestinians

Living and dying in the name of the same God

 

Forgive me for asking

Where are you

as the world vicariously watches

when thousands of children are starving to death 

in a world where millions of tons of food are wasted?

 

Forgive me...

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She doesn’t cry—her throat forgot the sound. No food. No water. Just a mother’s stare. Her child’s bones knock like glass beneath her skin. They wait for death. No doctor’s hands, no light. A school is shelled. The chalkboard bursts in blood. The maths is simple: one bomb kills a class. The lies are printed fresh on every screen— "We target threats." But infants make no war. A surgeo...

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It started off at two per cent

And now they want a little more.

Up to five is being mentioned,

Though somewhat less for the US;

It’s probably well-intentioned,

But, why? Nobody is quite sure.

 

To fight the wars that we deserve,

We’ll have to stump up lots more cash.

Mass destruction won’t come cheap:

As coffers fill to foot the bill;

The troops are massed like fri...

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NB:

PLEASE DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING IF YOU ARE MORE OFFENDED BY NAUGHTY WORDS, THAN YOU ARE BY THE SIGHT OF MURDERED BABIES!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That Tool’s lost his edge, to be blunt,

but his war dogs are still on the hunt,

and his hands drenched in blood,

deny infants their food.

Now, who else could do that, but a…..............................................

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Having your windows blown out

And your face cut by the glass,

And seeing your neighbours' daughter

Blown in the air and tumbling,

Minus one leg, next to their dead dog,

Ranks as pretty low grade stuff now.

Let’s face it, it’s not nuclear, with madcap types

Talking of Hiroshima and obliteration.

Having said that, it’s not exactly nice here

There’s a war on, you know.

 

...

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The walls were thick with will—

                               not strength, not steel.

 

We laid them down like pronouns in a grammar of fear,

fluent only in repetition. Stone by stone we spelled out:

Never again. And meant it.

 

But silence tunnels too.

 

A whisper breached where no guns aimed—

not headlong, but sidelong,

like memory forgetting its own edge.

...

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My enemy lives over there:

In the house across the road.

Not long ago, I knew him well;

But no longer. Sad, really.

He and his son helped me lift

That big oak dining table

On to our garden terrace.

What a job! And what a night

We had, of fun and frolics.

Now times, like looks, have hardened,

And yet, once, we were firm friends.

Then they came and built that fence.

...

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I wrote these lines of love, my dear,

Before the cold days of the war.

When you were near, so near, my dear;

When I was close, so close, to here,

And no one knew what lay in store.

 

Now all these lines have chilled, my dear,

Though love remains, strong as before.

Now you are far, so far, my dear,

While I am shivering with fear;

And all we can expect is more.

 

...

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The ongoing conflicts in Palestine and the Gaza Strip reflect a tragic cycle of violence fuelled by deep-rooted injustices and external political interference. Faith, often exploited and weaponised, becomes a source of division rather than unity, amplifying wounds rather than healing them. Powerful nations backing one side or the other frequently escalate tensions, prolonging suffering and...

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In the End

At night we sealed the light in, to be safe.

There was music, and the sewing machine whirred.

We played on the rug with a painted wooden car,

Like the one Daddy used to drive, when there was petrol.

 

Now every night the warden was on his bike,

In the pitch-black streets, checking the dark houses

In case the careless light was spilling out.

The rain on his r...

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I think that the artist got it spot on.

This is man at his most basic:

Trapped in the eternal tunnel,

 

With no beginning, no end, no escape,

Vulnerable like never before.

The place is a shelter, of course,

 

But could easily be a slaughterhouse,

Fried in fat if the walls don’t hold.

Try to imagine the pitch dark.

 

Just how has humanity come to this?

Cowerin...

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The metal’s falling

From the sky, like rain.

A warped ambition

Terrifies Ukraine,

As someone, somewhere,

Swells up with disdain,

While his practised sneer

Dishes out the pain.

And the world knows well

That he won’t explain,

But that, sure as hell,

He’ll be back again.

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For your information; the video below is sung in Yiddish, with English and French subtitles.

 

In forty-eight, I came into this world,

whose peace, they say, was won at cost immense:

I’m told that I should genuflect and bow,

to those who worship those old gods of war,

yes, I should heed the Christian warriors’ words,

who preach from pulpit and from podium,

and show respect ...

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N.B. I suppose I should make allowances for the Tommy Ten Names of this world, and admit that in the white heat of fascistic fervour, it is possible to confuse hamas with hummus…and gooodness knows what horrors might be inflicted by a beardy, muesli- eating sandal-wearing, Guardian-reading pacifist waving a bread stick around!

The Arabic يُكافِح means to struggle, and حُمُّص means hummus - not ...

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