Thursday, March 21, 2019


They were moving pictures of us at our worst -
The blessings of technology twisted and cursed
By our freethinking depravity
And our frequently fed degeneracy.

Yet, we have all done wrong.
So every murder mars us all
And we all share in the blame.
The sentences, the convictions,
Imprison us all forever.

Long ago, we all turned away.
We all listened to the songs of sirens
And we were all seduced by their promises.
Our leaders did not lead –
They offered us petty bribes
And played on our sordid fears.
Weak, we were happy to be misled.
We ignored our voices of conscience
And forgot the wisdom of ages,
Though it was there for us all to read
In the death toll of our violent history.

Even our reactions bring us shame.
Everywhere there is vengeance,
As an angry mob prepares a knot
And another one loads a gun.

Why do we never admit our common guilt
And seek the consolation of forgiveness?
Only then can floods of mercy
Wash away our shared shame
And quench the heat of hate.
Only then can we build bridges
That we all can cross into life,
Instead of erecting gallows
On which we all can only die.

But, for now, only tears are streaming.

Saturday, March 16, 2019


It was, by any means,
Far from the deepest of dreams.
There were no complexities,
No patterns, no layers.
It was quite threadbare -
Not at all a nightmare of sorts.
It did not leave me
Thinking sickening thoughts,
But I was bleeding
And no-one helped me.

There was a recurrent motif -
A familiar hoax from a false past
That could never ever exist:
Inadequate weeks before exams
And I was unprepared,
With so many school texts
Requiring reading.
But there was a new twist:
I was bleeding
And no-one helped me.

The rest of the class
Seemed happy,
Chatting in another language
That I barely understood.
For them, it was all good.
They could see me,
But my ailment’s birth
Was of neither interest nor worth;
Yet I was bleeding
And no-one helped me.

I woke to dark solitude’s night,
Which spelled no fear for me.
It is the bleary eyes of daylight,
In these eerie times,
That frighten me most of all.
Then I wondered in rhymes:
What had induced my delusion?
Perhaps, in some way, somehow,
I was bleeding
And no-one helped me.

Friday, March 1, 2019


I wish I could spin a silky sonnet
That might mitigate the wrath of a murderous multitude
Intent on stoning the stained-glass windows
That grant sorry souls dappled soft light in their solitude.

At its rock-hard heart there are no fissures of forgiveness
In idolatry masking all memories of immateriality.
Its disciples paint by numbers enthroned as currency,
And live by the barbarian benchmarks of bestiality.

Leaders claim to see so much in the nil of nothing
That they can discuss its implications all day long;
And yet they’re blind even to the most obvious truth,
So even the idiotic inept are never ever wrong.