The other month Islamic State tore down the ruins in Palmyra Millennia of history and civilisation wiped out in an instant Religious fanatics decree destruction supporting desecration of unique beauty In Knowle West a couple of rummaged suitcases lay discarded A child’s existence evidenced, solace and comfort bared for all to witness Stress sent my partner to hospital Last evening the kids tore my front wall down In the dark
Under blazing lights the dead lay in Paris morgues Lives taken in an instant with no forethought A breathless teddy bear sunbathes outside my bedroom window Deprivation scatters the detritus of displacement Beliefs and ideology kill the innocent No-one called round from the police yesterday Last evening the kids tore my front wall down By the light of a December evening
The Caliphate has been built up over years of capitalism Anti-social behaviour nestles in the womb of degradation A national emergency because we are all in danger from attack Terror and panic imbued in headline chasing red-tops No report made of the discrimination suffered by us in the over-55’s block Control orders and border controls blown away with AK 47’s Last evening the kids tore my front wall down No-one saw what happened by the light of a December night
Intelligence denied by unaware national governments allow escape of terrorists Local police fully aware and informed of disturbance and terror in Knowle West Red and white tape surround the fallen column outside my front window A gap has appeared for them to seep through into my sanctuary Terrorists invade and maim as boys and girls play their games In Knowle West a police car drives past but does not stop Last evening the kids tore my front wall down And now parliament decides to bomb Syria by the light of December darkness BIO:My name is Andy Brown and I perform spoken word in the Bristol area under the title of The Grandad from Knowle West, I use the power of poetry to bear witness and reflect on my life.
Tine Perlas-Heraldo CUT
Do not folly; do not worship me, a calf born of spectacles and melted gold. Betwixt the chapped lips, pursed, and the callouses offering kisses,
the wolf will never nurse the maladies; heal the cackle of the jealous blood, and of the mocking, treacherous bile within the feverish sunburnt skin, and
the drum wagons are reeling westward, canvasses billowing to the exit of the sun. The laurels, divine on my head, are turning and swelling bright but boring orange
for it does more damage, you know. Roaring and untamed, the rabid pack stalks the little holes within the elephantine dam. Oh us, the pretty ones will play with discord
while insidious bones inhale the crisp breath of the fading mirth of the dying morn. Leave those horrid claw marks, my dear on the sensuous back of friendless guilt.
BIO:My name is Tine Perlas-Heraldo and I’m a poet that writes in both English and Tagalog since I was eleven years old. My favorite poets include Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and Allen Ginsberg. I graduated from Sam Houston State University in Huntsville, Texas with a degree in Political Science.
Joan McNerney Occupant Apartment 2 D
His days marched in place days like tin soldiers each one pushing the next aside.
Hurry, hurry before it is too late… inside a gaping hole to be filled. More and more of the surface of his life was covered by dust.
The hallway gave off a musty odor. Night after night, lights burned. Busted dreams heaped in boxes. Black marks covered floors.
Less and less energy to clean up. His body betrayed him, both his bones, his breath betrayed him.
One edge of his room spoke to the other. His fan purred all summer, basement furnace heaved all winter. This incessant sigh gathering dust. BIO:Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary zines such as Camel Saloon, Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Missing of the Birds, and included in Bright Hills Press, Kind of A Hurricane Press and Poppy Road Review anthologies. She has been nominated three times for Best of the Net.
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