Click here to hear the poet read his words:
I write
I write now
as the only poet did
of man’s inhumanity to man
of the horrors inflicted daily
in countries
fortunately far away
where we don’t go
even on holiday
on people whose skin
is not as ours
so our carefully cultivated indifference
is satisfied
by the unnews
hidden behind even more words
about the glorious folly
of brexit
and the wonderful serendipity
of a virus
which allows us
to be utterly baffled
by ever-changing numbers
meaningless statistics
and conflicting projections
assiduously presented
by incompetent media
under the control of our corrupt governments
and their paymasters
to ensure that our freedoms
and birthrights
can be sold with scarcely a word
of protest
but I have learned my lesson
I write no more
of redemption or crucifixion
the fiction of the cross
lest
Heaven forbid
I offend
the delicate sensibilities
of my reader
Well that should leave your readers in no doubt about your views on religion or about the cruel injustices in the world.
I love it and Rabbie would be proud of youI
And Phil’s artwork is a brilliant accompaniment to your poem.
‘…It’s comin yet for a’ that,
That Man to Man the warld o’er
Shall brithers be for a’ that.’
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It was perhaps a rather blatant ‘les doigts dans le nez’, but it amused me.
Thanks for kind words.
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