war

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WMD

We found them in the end,
those Weapons of Mass Deception.

Turns out
that the Weak Motives for Destruction

were here all along,
not concealed in the backs of Iraqi trucks,

but buried deep
in a Whitehall Manipulation of Documents,

in a dossier entitled
“Wilful Misinformation and Distortion”

to serve the needs
of certain Well-known Ministers of Distinction.

Behind the scenes, out of sight,
Westminster Manoeuvres in the Dark;

disarming how long it has taken
for this to be brought to light.

The Chilcot Report: A History

Not much happened that first day –
the day the inquiry began –
the wind blew, a blackbird sang,
a shoe was found on the sand.

And the next day was the same.
Add in the bleating of a lamb,
a stick floating down a stream,
an early morning traffic jam.

And so it was, and so it was,
that the days turned into years,
and the people came and went –
their lives, their loves, their words.

Dynasties rose, empires fell,
species evolved over time.
Continents drifted further apart,
stars disappeared from the sky.

Dark energy increased in density,
all matter began to distort,
the universe collapsed in on itself,
then out came the Chilcot Report.

Make Poetry Not War

Leaders of the world,
stop your fighting.
Invest your time
in poetry writing.

Enough of all those
military manoeuvres,
concentrate on
more literary oeuvres.

Think about the planet,
when you plan
to drop a bomb upon it,
pause, ponder, then pen a sonnet.

Or if there’s somebody
who doesn’t like u,
appease them with
a humble haiku.

Let words be your weapons,
Metaphors your missiles.
Search out strident stanzas.
Ditch your Trident planzas.

Write a peace poem about a pipe,
an olive branch, a dove.
Take a ticket to Tender Town,
aboard the quatrain of love.

The War of the Roses

It was the Caramel Velvet
Who started it,
Getting a nudge
From the Country Fudge
Who began to scuffle
With the Chunky Truffle:
He had him
Over a Golden Barrel.

To the Turkish Delight,
All became night
As the box was plunged
Into Brazilian darkness.
A fire broke out
And the Coffee Escape,
Trying to avoid the scrape,
Was burnt to
An Orange Crisp.

It was a Praline Moment.