SWEET
Due East of Nowhere lies a sandy
shore,
Undulating, wriggling out
from sea.
Lie on this naked beach with
your amour,
Conjoin your limbs and set
your passion free;
Enjoy your thoughts, because you
cannot go and see.
AND
Each sorrowed soul that dwells
there cannot leave:
This slice of shore a web
around is weaved.
NOBLE
Dream you to go with me
inland? Where cleaned-up Kids
Excited stare at guests there
never are?
Come up and beg to take us
home, their bids
Outdo each other in a wish bazaar;
Racing forward, pointing hands gesture maps in light,
Until at last we choose a
child, a home, a plight, where
Mum must fast to feed us in her bairn's birth-right.
IT IS
Eating in a tent perched on the old
house debris,
Sofa from the rubble - and completing the Marquee a
Table topped by tinned food wrapped in UN decree.
ON BEHALF OF
Prayers. "Thanks God we survive through our people's Laments."
Rebuild? - "Bombed houses make coffins and then become tents."
Offspring? - "Bred for Waste. I have 2 left from 8. God is great".
OUR FATHERLAND
Punctually at sunset, the
drones fly over.
Actions don't change, you
can't hide in a tent
There's nowhere to run to,
no bed of clover.
Remember the fallen, but
remember the rent.
Inside the Bivouac Mum
tells her poppet:
Aircraft whine this way, that sound's a rocket.
TO DIE
Mother of Palestine, why don't
your sons
Organise rebellion, acquire
some big guns?
Reader and Leader, don't all we tell this story:
In Dulce et Decorum - est Pro
Patria Mori.
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(Sweet and Noble it is to die
for your Country,)
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