The unexpected

They’re dropping bombs on Santiago
but they’re doing it real slow
setting fire to Memphis, Tennessee
but nobody’s to know,
and they’re creeping up the back stairs
going to take you far from home,
welcome to the World today
the brand new twilight zone.
They kill kids who play in Palestine
murder women in Bengal and
call it all the act of war, they
pull time from underneath our feet,
beat confessions out with wooden sticks,
plant bombs and blow your place to bits
they still drop bombs
they dropped last night
killed how many,
is 100 right?
1000 more
one thousand more than that enough?
huff and puff they’ll blow you and your town to far enough away that kids can no longer play,
and don’t you fuckin’ say that you weren’t warned, but torn between the sofa and the bingo hall, what’s another war, yeah that’s good, fuck all.
but they’re bombing Santiago
and you won’t see it on the news,
your view’s been disinherited,
you’re suffocated by the media and breathe through pipes that feed you crack cocaine, you don’t feel the pain, don’t hear the cry, don’t know that not only dead people lie in their own shit.
And it’s quiet in the suburbs, closed shops littering the street, hope you don’t miss the soap opera before the bombs drop down to greet your town,
sleep safe tonight,
one hundred thousand could be right.

© 2015 – 2016, John Smallshaw.