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Too late too late

 

When it was over

the guns were in our hands,

 

when it was over

our tanks were in their lands.

 

When it became history

the markets redrew our graphs,

 

when it became history

our media moguls wrote their epitaphs.

 

When war was still a raging

the dead inflamed our hate,

 

when war was still a raging

our mercy came too late...

 

https://...

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Pivot to War

 

Porky Pigs in Porton Down

took a bullet for the Crown.

All our wounds look the same

the pigs are dead the men are lame...

 

Argies beneath trench duck boards

cut to meat by youthful hordes,

there were no geese upon the green

when sun came up, the slaughter seen...

 

Again, we're getting battle ready

our leaders brash, drunk faux-heady,

shipbuilding, craftin...

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Shifting Sand

 

Screens are the crematoriums of yesterday's news,

we switch them on

we switch them off,

between the static seeking brighter views,

our interest gone

the pyres excused...

 

We rant and rage for our own need,

we curse at this

we curse at that,

between our fast we sate our greed

we crave all bliss

we waste our seed...

 

While borders bloat and bellies sh...

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Into Silence

 

Voices quieten into hushed goodbyes,

our losses enlighten the darkest of skies.

 

Absence fills the space that is left,

memories remain; we are not bereft.

 

Snow falls again, it drifts beyond sight,

Wild geese on the wing take to their flight.

 

Though things move away, their pathways converge,

from the deepest of sorrow great joy can emerge... 

 

 

ht...

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Moses meets Mo

 

Up on a cloud Moses meets Mo,

they're watching the slaughter

unravel below.

 

They wonder together what have they done?

was it through them that the

killing begun.

 

Moses, reflects that he parted the Sea

to deliver the tribes, says "it

wasn't me"

 

Mo, is confused and a little perplexed,

"I wasn't around then" his tone

somewhat vexed.

 

They sa...

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A longing

 

Where the croft turned to dune

we hid to make our love,

The Peewit called staccato tunes

unbound in choirs above...

 

The Grasses beckoned desperate Waves

too drowned by Seas unbroke,

that crashed the Shore and lashed the Caves

as words that can't be spoke...

 

I dream my fingers in your hair

my breath upon your face,

to wish my soul with yours was there

...

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Harm

 

Trying to write I lift a scab

to see my lifeforce flow,

for under the crust of all things dead

lie things we crave to know...

 

yet with such knowing are we fixed

or wounded all the more?

by careless angst we self-inflict

there is no reason for.

 

 

 

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Spectator

 

I know not the deepest pangs of hunger

nor have I felt the heel of a boot at my throat,

but I have seen insects crawl on sightless eyes

and I've heard cruel victors gloat.

 

I know not the wrench of forced separation

nor have I sought refuge where wild dogs howl,

but I have seen the fall of once kind nations

and smelt their rot, so foul.  

 

I know not the persec...

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Peace talks

 

The water is Still and Sparkling

the AC is silent as dust,

tame media outlets remarking

which one of these suits can we trust?

 

The translators verbose and inventive

sit idly waiting on words,

a settlement holds no incentive

so enthused, they resolve to throw curbs.

 

Front lines are bloody and broken,

of talking, there's none to be heard...

you're dead or...

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Discarded

 

Under the viaduct

things are discarded,

where shadows fall heavy

before the night.

 

Echoes of victims

hauntingly silent,

two drunken strangers

desecrate a murder.

 

Last moments

absorbed in brick,

graffiti screams

where no-one sees.

 

Nonchalant commuters

thunder above,

everyone moving away

from you.

 

 

 

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Easter, the resurrection of man

 

On Easter Sunday

we'd roll hard boiled eggs

down hillsides

their painted shells would crack,

 

the beach over-run

by happy clapping gospel missions

and donkey rides,

I knew then "He's not coming back"

 

In another land

I saw a fractured child

broken by the war

cast aside by righteous rule...

 

such an act of inhumanity

there could be

n...

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The infinity of consequence

 

Regard your hands with disgust.

Idle, they are the tools of wicked thought...

 

Your mind wanders the contours of things forbidden,

misused, it writes a script for dormant horrors...

 

the seed and the active ingredient repel,

whilst psychopathic imagination permits all...

 

the membrane of restraint is gossamer thin...

a butterfly wing betwixt heaven and hell

...

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Aubade-esque

 

 

I come awake, sunlight banishing the night,

clawing at curtains it smears the shabby walls...

the debris of yesterday best forgotten offends my sight,

relentless optimism cares not where on it falls.

 

The fog of memory lifts, dreams combust in vampiric flame.

I am adrift, ripped too early from interstellar torpor.

It's not that heavenly bodies could be held to any b...

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Of Succubus And Demons

 

Of Succubus and Demons,

my dreams are filled with fiery hollows.

 

A grey figure lifts its gown

serpentine the foetus writhes,

my throat of blood floods to drown,

though I'm consumed; the child survives...

 

Followed by a beast that leads

nocturne sun devours the soul,

subconscious in my waking needs

the seventh circle takes me whole...

 

Deeper, Deeper ...

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To see must be to speak

 

See the crows with bloody beaks

that pluck the tongues

through which truth speaks

 

See the men with bloody tongues

that strike out truth

were e're it comes

 

See the scribes with words writ wrong

who care not where

their ink comes from

 

See the eyes that welcome blight

that fills their soul

yet steals their sight

 

See all this yet carry on?

...

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Crimes against mysanity

I thought I'd repost some vitriol this morning and let you decide who you wish to send it to.

 

Sycophantic,

word-pedantic

dictionary whore.

 

Your literary vacuum

leaves me wanting more.

 

Your spewing words

thick with rot,

from something ill ingested

tie my patience like a knot,

intestines worm infested.

 

You’re like a stain of afterbirth

stillbor...

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Glenborrodale

 

Step on step toward the crest

across timbered burn and stone,

where tumbling water knows no rest

save in the Loch below,

 

its rainy surge of silver gleam

frenetic in its fall,

like wealth hid in a black-rock seam

beyond the reach of all.

 

Yet onward, upward I will climb

against the easy way,

where greater joy than wealth is mine

and fewer men might say...

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Casement Park, Last Rites (For Wood and Howes)

 

No one knows who wasn't there,

at Casement Park.

No one knows who wasn't there,

on Churchill Avenue.

No one knows who wasn't there,

at Milltown Cemetery.

 

We were young and malleable

We were hammers and sharpened tools,

we were disposable yet valuable

we the puppets of murderous fools.

 

We heard the pavement split

We heard the double tap,

we knew t...

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Shared Songs

 

On days the Robin doesn't come

I don't know where he goes,

but I can't be the only one

he sings to I suppose...

 

So in my mind I conjure him

as if to call him near,

that somewhere in my conjuring

his calls to me appear...

 

though better that his song is sung

so all mankind might share,

with calming notes our days begun

raised up by natures care...

 

...

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Pulborough Brooks

 

Where hedgerows twitch with flitting flight

I'll sit and think of you,

the Lapwing and the Common Snipe,

the Dunlin and Curlew...

 

the lilting peace of song and breeze

migrates my restless mind,

and like the feathered wing with ease

I'll leave this earth behind...

 

to fly to where you may have flown,

no need of worldly ties,

just as the birds are raised a...

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And there will be no Gods

 

In the quiet dark it is easier to see and hear.

Satellites reconfigure their trajectories,

in the starlit black of nothingness and eternity

their soulless commands are the new creation.

 

No millennia terraforming or Darwinian accident,

nothing so beautifully patient from our un-divine architects.

The New Gods sit among their charges, howling with madness.

Soon all wil...

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With the Certainty of the Day

 

On this our darkest night,

aurora stains the mountains red,

the impatient blade of morning

bleeds the starlight pale.

No staunch defence

could stem such blackness bled,

nor bar the shaft of golden day,

that all of life should fail.

 

And once so sure, our hearts entwined

beat the very same,

that spinning in their union

no imposter could unbind.

Yet ...

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Paradoxical Voyage

 

Rocks will break the oceans top

and spill great sailors to their graves,

where hulls of ships become mere crop,

becalmed, at rest in coastal caves...

 

echoes of the timbers split

the wash and swell unseen by men,

blown by winds where lovers sit

whose hearts may never love again.

 

All men are wrecks upon some shore

their journey's spent, their cargo lost.

...

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Advice from fallen angels

 

In a conference of murderers

who can you trust?

 

All those knives

all those lies

 

In an alliance of economies

where do you bank?

 

No place of residence

no character reference

 

With your back to the wall

you have only fists, feet and teeth

 

You fight with no rules

because they made the rules

 

When you're betrayed and hung out

you h...

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A lull in the fighting

 

The guts of men writhe like landed eels,

they spill as if they never end.

 

Brains like cod roe and fat

wrapped in paper, torn apart.

 

A tooth, an eye and half a scalp.

An ear inside a mouth, its tongue split Scarlet blue.

 

And now, where metal forged its deadly path

beneath the forests open wound, sunlight feasts with flies.

 

The living men so nearly d...

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Gift

 

It wasn't the morning that came,

nor the night that slipped from the sky,

but somewhere

between dreams

and my waking,

some other dimension

                                              passed by.

 

It wasn't an absence or presence,

nor the things with the traces of you,

but somewhere

between light

and moons crescent,

a ghost of you came

         ...

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A Vermin Complete

 

"I thought I'd write something that offered hope then ripped it away, something more representative of real life"

 

They laughed at you,

your accent, your hair, your skin...

your knowledge of nothing

that they believed in.

 

Your best friend, a Jew

then Vikram the Sikh,

the Haggis, the Kosher,

the words you couldn't speak

 

Your smile now victorious,

wh...

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One thing becomes another

 

He takes a sack of crumpled shirts,

a puzzle

and a gun.

He leaves with wigs and mini skirts

and "Chuzzlewit"

for fun.

 

He's in a Queue at "Waitrose",

transformed,

an amazon,

all selfish hair and Dickens prose,

prior signs

of him, all gone.

 

The High Street hums with laundries,

wringing out

their blood-stained cash,

all shiny fronts and ta...

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Of sorrowful songs there is no fear

 

A face as smooth as glass

that time has fallen from,

tracks of tears have passed

the weight of years moved on.

 

Hands purpura petalled

fold like angels wings,

hair as gentle snowflakes

a midnight clear might bring...

 

a robin on a window ledge

a flower full in bloom,

the sacred vow of loves long pledge,

a summer gone too soon.

 

And yet the song ...

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Luddite

 

The reign is spitting mad

at the huddled masses yawning,

those maggots of the night

who hatch out in the morning,

 

it seeks to hold them under

to wash them clean away,

with their plastic bags of plunder

who'd miss them anyway?

 

They have no real accounts,

no footprint in the data

their sum to naught amounts

they are dead sooner than later.

 

They...

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Between two worlds

 

In dreams my father is with me.

He lives in his nightmare wide awake.

 

In dreams my legs buckle.

He falls in his nightmare.

 

I see him, we cannot speak,

his frail hands outstretched to his child.

 

His hanging mouth a cave

with all his life inside, forgotten.

 

Asleep in his bed like amber in linen,

withered by time and ages rot.

 

So we meet bet...

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At 5 o'clock a million things

 

It's five o'clock in the morning, it's -5,

my dog pisses as she stares at me.

 

Her steam, my breath as one

I think she's laughing.

I'm laughing, I'm wearing shorts and a beanie.

 

What is this,

eccentric englishness?

 

Stars in silver sulphide pierce a frigid sky

a Supernova vents it's dying throes.

 

She stands from squat,

the Blackbird sings

 

...

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Are We The Only Living One's to Have Thought

 

Used to be

I could get all the news I need

on the weather report

 

When days

were long

and darker times came in short

 

I could gather all the news I need

on the weather report

 

Hey, I've got nothing to do today

but cry

and to cry and to cry and to cry

for what's going on

 

is this the only dying world

our greed's brought.

 

Most ...

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Into the wild

 

Behind the songful thicket

where fields tuck in to ancient earth,

the tiny birds sing thanks to birth

 

trod and turned by boot and plough

much goes unseen by humans now.

 

Beyond the foamy edge

where breakers roll on timeless sand,

the wilding wind knows no command

 

stamped, then cleared by men and tides.

whose howls are drowned like griefs lost cries

...

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The Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come

 

The bones of Christmas, ragged torn,

carved, discarded, bin-bound waste.

In the farmyard cruelly born

raised for purpose, culled in haste.

 

The ribboned knot of cast-off wrap,

stuffed in plastics killer sack.

An offering up of deadly crap

to fill a void that can't grow back.

 

The joy of peace in frugal life,

of roots in earth as rich as Kings.

Reward born...

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Between two Worlds

 

For my Father

 

In dreams my father is with me.

He lives in his nightmare wide awake.

 

In dreams my legs buckle.

He falls in his nightmare.

 

I see him, we cannot speak,

his frail hands outstretched to his child.

 

His hanging mouth a cave

with all his life inside, forgotten.

 

Asleep in his bed like amber in linen,

withered by time and ages rot.

...

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Larkin and Me

 

Larkin lived on Dixon Drive

now he's still dead

and I'm alive.

He stacked books

with referenced spine

and trousered coin,

paid in fine.

 

I lived just off Ethel Road

half a man

but full-on toad.

Crushed into my loutish form

dull schooling

shaped me

to this norm.

 

Phil moved on,

to Queens and hope

with less despair

and longer rope.

...

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Tree

 

Tree

of joy,

of pagan

rite, reaching out

on this silent night

rain your spores that all may

know, seeds of hope take and grow,

to bloom in man’s infertile heart

where once love stuttered, it might restart.

 

 

I have succumbed to the temptation of a reverse nonet. I don't often take part in these exercises but in the spirit of celebration thought I might. Tha...

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The last laureates

 

All the poets of all the kings

with all their fine imaginings

have only ever offered up

the favoured flavour of their sup.

 

with words so lofty, full of grace

persuading of their given place,

that they alone could fill that space.

Emblazoned coin, gods chosen face.

 

While those of us with poets eyes

not blessed with pardons for our lies,

see through the c...

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Mothers of Sons (Twenty years wasted to abandonment)

 

Women cradled newborn babes veiled with a mothers blood,

their hands steady and assured.

 

Their love knew no jealous god, no book or holy ground,

their voices spoken not written.

 

Beaten and defiled by men borne by woman's pain,

men corrupted by instruction and fear.

 

Their bodies vessel's of nurture and hope, broken by hate,

bloodied fists against bare flesh.

...

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Alba

 

Wrapped in sky and heathered hills

caressed by briny horses wild,

so far from dark satanic mills

survives the empire's favoured child.

 

Once stripped and starved of tongue and god

its people slaved and banished cold,

crofts and mànas razed to sod

that none who dwelled there might grow old.

 

But land in time calls back its own

disgorging tyrants, killing king...

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Absolution

 

He has taken things from children

and sometimes from the dead,

often both at once

yet not a word was said.

 

He has broken imposed curfews

commandments and the law,

in many different countries

protected by a war.

 

He has spoken of sedition

incitement and of hate,

with words as ammunition

he's schemed to obfuscate.

 

He has dealt with kings and ...

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War in Season

 

Ice puddles like lily pads

an archipelago of creeping freeze,

stepping stones of tears perhaps

shed by autumns grieving trees...

 

then captured in the frozen glare

of sunlight’s first defiant rays,

they'll fade as if were never there

to herald in such hopeful days.

 

So many things unseen by men

the simple and the subtle change,

that slip through time like...

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Epitaph For The Waste Land

 

I see them in forgotten towns

men in pairs and burdened mums,

nowhere stares with heads bowed down

"Something broken this way comes"

 

In carless forecourts of bleak hotels

where fag butts rot and litter blows,

cruel deals are done that no one tells...

We turn our heads so no one knows.

 

While in the dens of whispered spite

be-trolleyed locals sneer and scoff...

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They Also Serve

 

 

Though there are wars we cannot see

their wounds and scars leave history

some is carved in marbled stone

the names of those beloved and known...

 

and some is seared to flesh and mind

unknown to those we left behind

who waved us off and served us well

and in their waiting shared our hell

 

Video and Audio available at link below

https://wolfgarwords.com/...

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Trafficked, Gangmasters Vlad & Kim

 

Flesh is commodity

guns universal

uniforms reversable

flags incontrovertible

 

Kimchi for Borscht

tank for a horse

fodder for force

mutual of course

 

Bodies for bags

medals perhaps

dictators relapse

generational gaps

 

Star for a Sickle

water for trickle

allegiance for fickle

too much for so Little

 

Blood for the soil

dollars fo...

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No Accounting

 

The Jag is in the driveway

behind the iron gates,

the home was christened "My-Way"

(he who loses hesitates)

 

All the frills are garish

from The Pillars to The Pool,

the gothic-faux nightmarish

its rendition most uncool.

 

The topiary is phallic

it's freudiently flawed,

the colour palette so manic

passing psychopaths applaud.

 

A bronze eagle guard...

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Poplars in November

 

Their branches proud above the town

like men in rank, their feet in mud,

skyward facing they can't look down

their roots fixed in this land of blood.

 

And onward, over fields and seas

men wrenched their hearts too far from home,

mere saplings who would not make trees

but from whose seed a nation's grown.

 

Across the green, the cenotaph

its lonely stone, rain...

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Postea Vitam

 

 

Where might you be?

not on some lazy Isle sun-kissed and loved.

In rain-soaked streets beneath epileptic light?

are you where you thought you'd be...

 

are you un-anchored from your dreams?

passed through their veil of comfort...

real worlds are the sum of all our disappointment

their dark corners offer no redemption.

 

Is it just the night that brings you s...

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The last living room

 

Not much, but at least a place to die.

 

The faux heroics of killers obliterates their victims...

languishing, chained to the memories of those who wait.

 

Ignored in gleaming streets or broken in the ruins.

 

Automatons of death find them; their eyes show all to all.

A news clip, a gif, an empty revenge on waste.

 

Old men dine in celebration, "Manna and Halva f...

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