Dead    screen

                    Dead     scream

                    Dead    lies

                    Dead     truth

                    Dead     count

                    Dead     screen

                    Dead     scream

                    Dead     buried

                    Dead     life

                    Dead     hope

           ...

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“Were you and Mr. Corbyn friends, Mr. Starmer?”

Optimistically asked a truth-seeking reporter:

but the North Wind it blew, so he huffed and he puffed,

and the South Wind it blew, as he thought it all through,

then the East Wind it blew, yes, that question was tough,

then the West Wind it blew; that decided the truth:

“Yes, of course we were”, croaked he with a cough.

Again, ...

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Comrade, do please pass me the paint pot,

red will do, yes, a pint will be fine,

imperial measures are better,

Rule Britannia and fuck the Iranians!

They say that blood’s thicker than water,

but is it thicker than oil?

I reckon paint’s thicker than blood,

but blood’s much cheaper these days,

come on guys, let’s paint the tow...

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Illegal is a concept with which the UK’s familiar:

Genocide, Ethnic Cleansing and Theft: they all come to mind,

but our legal eagle of Human Rights is the pot

who’s deigned to call the Trumpian kettle black:

protest genocidal arms, Starmer will imprison you,

yes, the fog of war’s the friend he hides behind:

Afghanistan and Iraq we...

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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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How brilliant is the light tonight

how brilliant is it

Flashes like meteors boom and bang

A festival of fireworks

Heading here and there  

How brilliant is the sky tonight

how brilliant is it

But some won’t see it

Others will  

A child points at a flashing light

And then they are in it

How deadly is the night tonight

How chillin...

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Iran’s babes, too, bombed:

that Tool’s silence volumes speaks.

Cherry blossom weeps.

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