Forever fighting

Suffocated to be resuscitated and then suffocated once again. There’s a war going on John a war, I shouldn’t be here because I’m not in the corps and I’m not even sure what the fighting is for but there’s a war going on John a war. And it’s a tenuous link between two trains of…

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The second front

Win win win what a flamin’ feat I got there just in front of him and bagged myself a seat It’s the little victories that win a war. It’s Friday what’s he moaning for? I’m having conversations albeit silently with the silent people sat around me, no argument about that. And the more I see…

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The organist

It’s life and not the Western Front you don’t get the sheriffs star or go with Beau Geste on a terrorist hunt Daktari? who mentioned that throwback from the outback way back long ago? If you wanted fireworks you’ve got them I’ve got a hyperactive thyroid fucking annoyed about it but shit it’s small potatoes…

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The mental wars we fight between the darkness and what might be so and because we don’t know which side we are on the battles we fight go on and on. An appetite for ambiguity excludes me from society and the pills don’t help me at all. But my finger’s on the pulse the alarm…

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Divide and conquer was or was not the right answer, I should have known if not so head on to face one, to punch with full force until the division is gone it’s not poetry that comes from the barrel of a gun but death. and Ho Chi in a Teepee or Mao playing mahjong…

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The record makers

Crawling on an urban highway thinking this is the way to go but we should know by now that this is not how evolution works. we’re heading towards Armageddon with blinkers on our eyes and we’re burning the bridges behind us while still hoping that some God will find us. Boom. we bust and all…

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Then it became obvious that the obvious wasn’t so

motion sensors compensated for the walking wounded
and on the front line where time was allowed elevation
and the stations of the cross where observed by forward gunners,
the post man strolled through first class carnage to deliver field green bandages.

dreams occasionally obstruct my breathing and believing the dreams to be real
I steal back into wakefulness,
but always return to the battleground back to the sounds of thunder.

I know that if I go
under for the third time
there’ll be no
elevation to sight a line on me
no stations of the cross
there’ll be nothing left of me
no cannon to the right of me,

I wonder if I’ll be free then
without oxygen
to inflate my ego.

It may be that it will be

The industry

We’re tagging and bagging them delivering them to the gates where if the truth’s to be believed salvation awaits them, the dead cannot tell us no lies. it’s always a surprise to me that Gabriel’s as surprised as me to see so many men in the queue. We who you call them are all dead…

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Syria. It’s a worrier and no wonder I can’t sleep. Do we stay out or do we go in with ‘boots on the ground?’ Harold said, ‘this won’t affect the pound in your pocket’ that’s torn it, the hawks will have orgasms, but no win, no fee or should that be no win, no free?…

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Raising Cain

This is what it’s for and if it’s war, that of Megatons if bombing runs are measured that way in the rule of the old school tie Conservative party lie kind of way who I wonder are they in the pay of? Arms dealers Life stealers? Guns for money and isn’t it funny how politicians…

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Dangerous times

When the talking is done When the shit hits the fan When the lights all go out. The strategy is to make us see our brothers as enemies, which frees the blame from the ones who start wars in my name. We collude with them by buying their lies by learning to despise, by seeing…

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The harvest

The stone against stone that grinds and is blown as grit upon the shore where the sea asks and gives more and the land takes and the grit makes… ..on the beach we teach our children how dangerous the sea is, how deep as if we knew and how do we keep our children safe?…

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The 21st penitentiary

Wars to settle old scores and there are no wars to end all wars, that’s a fallacy. The dead are blind and they can’t see. I watch it all on the TV brought and bought by CNN, C4 and the BBC, screaming, but they’re deaf to me a lonely voice unheard amid the glamour! Oh…

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The dam

Children of the insane and we’re at it again Water’s short the day is long but they bottle it anyway, let people pay for it the poor can drink their own spit no mercy in this trade, the well paid and well-heeled don’t know how it feels to be thirsting for a drink, they all…

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