Foetal almost.....

As curved as a butchered kidney
foetal almost
or childlike at least
ignorant of the rage surrounding him

Dull against the thunderous ball that tracks him
are panicked, desperate cries for his crawled return
so dull he missed them all
deafened perhaps by the last of his own coursing blood

Foetal almost, his form as immobile
as a fossilised shrimp
petrified by time, not copper jacketed menaces
drilling into sun baked ground around him

Had his tympanic torn?
then again, no one hears the round that kills them
foetal again now, but still born
wreaths back home shiver limply, compared to his glorious spent brass anadem

Returned.

Return my love
Surrender to my auto centric world
With crinkled nose of displeasure
at painful insults hurled
Invest, invest did I nothing but pure heart and treasure
　
Return our love
Avast the sailing of a low tide of briny drops
Curtaining the window of demure emotion
Lest dew should worry plumb cheek tops
Questioning my utter devotion
　
Return your love
As per your statutory rights
Gift of a mans soul
Pair of laddered tights
Pseudo contentedness as per, so empty a bowl*

You incessantly blame me for ear bleeding berating
Truth is your love died along with my credit rating
* not very good is it? But stick it in if you like - R.J.

Benefits of benefits

Tracksuit clad youths push a mini motorbike
Steering round a drunk pissing up a red brick wall
Whilst his snot nosed infant throws stones, the little tyke
Wrecks a phone box, despite being only three feet tall.

Needles strewn along the kerb
Boarded up houses still inhabited, the house is cold - the Telly’s hot
Disenfranchised teens sit in crumbling grey bus shelters puffing herb
Communal grass doubles as a junkies improvised cot.

Upon the road in foot high bright white paint
Illiterate drug-orphans scrawled Fuk tha PoliceAwfully rude, yet rather quaint
Pity the support officer sent to proffer peace

A leading artist made us a sculpture here, once
It lasted two hours before the first tags stained
the now corroded loving effort as abandoned as community newsletters printed in comic fonts
Crumpled with an agony of twisted steel ill maintained

Grass that’s rarely ever mown
Cracked tiles, detritus in the holes similar to councillors lame words
Weeds poke between Happy Meals in flower beds overgrown
A thousand miles from pride fuelled suburbs

A crazed mut, worse than rabid patrols
Alongside nineteen year old Tanya pushing her wobbly second hand pram
Slaloming through dozens of ineptly unfixed pot holes
On her way to carry out a refund scam

All of these entertainments distract me not
Swinging the lead, my cost of living’s free
Reclining I survey my decent lot
As for years……. I’ve fiddled the good old D.W.P.

Tales born of designation

Lead spitting cobra thrusting
7 rounds a second
Accurately toward enemy cowering behind rocks busting
2 at a time if needs be, Talibs not quick enough to abscond.

Lubricated lovingly by the oil we protect our be-
9 presence when operating undetected the very ba-
6 of our craft bathed in lunar luminescence
Allowing mothers to know their sons suffered not.
1 at a time. ad infinitum.

Lightning white hot & molten too quick for diving to ab-
8 their chances of being struck, no medic could re-
5 splintered torso, tumbled rounds or deceptive
Angled glances.
2ward them snake paths of ball rocketing dirt above
Immobile killers prepared to be scared of death again
Without inept shame their masters reek of.

Hot headed
& eager to engage infidels
Killing their weak bodies whilst
Liberating deluded minds, my prophets bloodlust quells
1ton destructions morbid ache.
7ty yards away behind a berm, a sweaty Mahdi swaps magazines
Alarmed at the calm Tom's grasp of technology (just a generation before
2berculouses claimed an uncle) undoubtedly a man by his late teens,
Umbrellas of floating fire leave Terry cowering helpless at his friends loud drama
Galvanised in blinding phosphorus
Lighting the path to Allah.

Yank the Plank

Boot or trunk
Afterburn or Reheat
Waterboard or biscuit dunk?
In metres as opposed to feet

Silence or suppress?
Subtle olde world whisper or decadent stateside screams
Careful precedence or shambolic banking mess
Would you chant for city, or build a field of dreams?

Thomas Hamilton or the Washington sniper?
Our was nasty his victims had nappy rash
In the end yours required a diaper
But you’d have given Malvo the needle, just for dealing hash.

Fins or Flippers
Two fingers or one
Pancakes or Kippers
Ronnie `n` Reggie or a fat eyetie Don?

Bonnet or Hood
Pavement or sidewalk
They’d escape if they could
But you wont hear the poorest talk
On either disposable mobiles or cosmetic cell
Fortunes claimed from deep under a swell north sea,
Or nodded by a donkey from deep dark Texan well

Faggot or Queer
Sweets or Candy
Stonewalls lessons fully absorbed over here
McCarthyism today sure would come in handy
Are you an Islam or an in god we trust?
What’s that ya say sport?
Iraq or bust!

K I A

Kitted Ineptly, Ancient
Karki Impure Apparel,
Knackered Intrepid Army
Kissed Indignant Assassins.

Kept Inside Asgard
Khyber Impossible Aspiration
Kosher Israeli Appearance?
Kiblah Irritates Americans
Karzai’s Imbecilic Acceptance.

Kalashnikov Indicates Anger
Kilo India Alpha
Kieran Ian Anderson
Kings Infantry, Afghanistan.
Killed In Action.

He’s still there

He’s still there you know,
Waiting for the women to come out and cut up what remains.
He’s still there you know,
I watched as he filled the electric kettle all precise,
slamming down the lid
Like some durable black top cover of a smoothed feed tray.
He might act normal most of the time but,
He’s still there you know,
I watched him in the pub the other night,
Interacting with civilians,
Mid tour leave & happy almost with being on the skive.
But still wishing his pool cue as he twirled it
Would turn into his L-85.