‘Tis the Season…’

Strands of fairy lights spiralling around

Local authority evergreens. Card

Readers, to their credit, are working hard

Reading the advent lesson, profit found

In the Christmas or Yuletide myth of choice.

Bethlehem, though, is closed again this year,

Armageddon seems to be drawing near,

With the bellicose having found their voice.

It feels as if the children of Herod

Are committed to an ancient error

That disputes can be resolved though terror,

With the blessing of their particular god.

While there’s still faith in nation and ordnance

How can humanity hope to advance?

D. A.

COP Out (28)

There is far too much carbon in the sky

Where, self-important leaders, with a dearth

Of ideas, jet from all around the earth

To vent hot air, enjoy banquets and try

 Looking as if they’re serious about

Rapidly melting glaciers and ice caps,

Forest fires, flooding, droughts destroying crops,

Drilling for oil, letting more carbon out.

They’ll propose taking radical measures,

Whatever’s required to reverse the trend,

Just as long, they’ll say, at conference’s end

They don’t impinge on capital’s treasures.

But then, of course, there’s the question of war,

Missiles and shells make carbon levels soar.

D. A.

Breaking News

Breaking News! The vast, vast majority

Of eight billion human beings haven’t killed

Anyone today, nor were so ill-willed

As to indulge in an atrocity.

Reports are coming in that people aren’t

Generally being greedy, indeed they live,

As far as possible, cooperatively,

Even while constantly being told they can’t.

Investigations, it appears, have exposed

Allegations that vile dictatorships

Are, or were, socialist, come from the lips

Of capital’s mouthpieces; debate closed.

Facts and details, how and which ones to choose?

That choice is what makes or can break the news.

D. A.

Lifestyle Choice

Urban camping’s highly recommended,

With prime sites in every city and town,

Alfresco pavements, or dark alleys down

Which you’re quite likely to be befriended.

Or there’s the glamping option for those days

Of winter so fresh and crisp they’re chosen

By those who prefer life to be frozen,

Their deluxe sleeping bags in shop doorways.

Meanwhile in Boulogne, Calais and Dunkirk,

Campers can look forwards to amusing

Themselves by going Channel cruising,

And a warm welcome waiting as a perk.

With people’s needs so readily addressed

They can freely choose which lifestyle suits best.

D. A.

Appealing

An afternoon of snooker on TV,

With every frame winning followed by

A commercial break, adverts that try,

Through poignant entreaty, to persuade me

To pick up my phone or just send a text

And donate month on month, as if charities

Can correct all the gross disparities

Of capitalism. First, war zones, next

The homeless, food banks, then forced marriage

Of young girls, the latest famine, immense

Problems of diseases drugs costing pence

Could treat, chronic loneliness of old age.

Each and every one a worthy mission,

But none will cure the ills of competition.

D. A.

Remember

Remember, remember the eleventh

Of November, when gunfire, shelling

And shot paused for a moment, a telling

Silence. Then gather around the plinth

On which the cenotaph stands, narcotic

Poppies commemorate and mask the blood,

While in their Sunday best the great and good

Make their last post stand before the quick

March past and away from the remaining dead,

Still behind their national flags. No advance,

As around the world echoes of ordnance

Drown out every word of peace ever said.

If, amidst shell-wracked ruins, all hope lies,

Bleeding poppy red, humanity dies.

D. A.

Justification

A world of bellicose tribulations

Spawns advocates prepared to justify

Why it’s right and proper others must die

In order to preserve the nation.

Barbarians just beyond the borders

Are prepared to kill our sons and daughters.

And so, a self-defensive slaughter

Of their children is perfectly in order.

It’s with heavy hearts and heavy bombing

That the moral high ground is defended

And violence might finally be ended

Once the violent can be sure what’s coming.

Any who protest or call for a halt

Are in the enemy’s camp, by default.

D. A.

Tongue Tied

Self-appointed people’s tribunes shout

And chant that righteous death be visited

On those proclaimed other, who, it’s said,

Challenge righteous certainties with doubt.

Ernest professed defenders of free speech

Then demand banning of hate words they see

As inimical to democracy:

Language isn’t allowed beyond the law’s reach.

All too readily from good intentions

Voices may be silenced, tongues shackled,

Stopping difficult issues being tackled

Through a malignant state’s intervention.

 But then, advocates for better times to come

Can be confounded, arrested; struck dumb!

D. A.

By Any Means

Atrocity can be excusable,

Once it’s justified by necessity

It seems. The bombardment of a city,

Or a hospital being hospitable

To wounded, injured and maimed refugees.

Shooting the young at a pop festival,

Cutting power and water to instil

Panic and despair, unleashing disease.

The blame lies squarely with the others side,

Always. All-out assault is an advance,

Not an attack, an act of resistance,

To defend property and national pride.

And there are benefits to martial harms,

Great profits from manufacturing arms.

D. A.

Cutting Earth

Take a spade and cut a sod one spit square,

Lift that clod of earth, then identify

Precisely where the roots of the nation lie,

Has a border line been drawn clearly there,

Showing where one soil ends and the rest starts?

Judge just how heavy it is and appraise

Yourself as to how many lives it weighs,

Estimate the number of broken hearts

Required to thoroughly saturate it

With the blood of martyrs, or supposed foe,

Or simple patriots who think they know

Their national story. When they relate it

Though, they find the fiction reveals that earth’s

Everyone’s, everywhere, of equal worth.

D. A.