Thursday, February 7, 2013

Silent Gunshots by Matthew Wilson

The war is over.
But I may be the last.
The other soldiers do not talk to me.
Those with missing parts do not breathe.

I thought I was lonely before the first gunshot.
So then I must be human for having feelings.
Even if I do not bleed.
Maybe my maker had no time to install a pain processor.

Of one maker or another.
Beside the limp, I can still work. Clearing the robot dead.
How long must I wait here in the gunsmoke?
Without orders?

A lesser being would weep at what I have seen.
I might be on the winning side after all.
Yes. I think I must be human.
But after what I have done, I hope not.

Matthew Wilson, 29, is a UK resident who has been writing since small. Recently these stories have appeared in Beyond Centauri, Starline Poets Association and Carillon magazine. He is currently editing his first novel.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Our Pope was a Young Nazi by Thom Woodruff

To be American,you must swear not to support
the Nazi Government of Germany(which has long disappeared)
Right-wing ideologues may still spout racist hate speech
(Free Speech is at the core an American value)
Shouting"FIRE!"in a crowded theater
or targeting people because of their race
is sometimes(selectively) prosecuted
Israel has jailed whistle-blowers who revealed Israeli nuclear capacities
Israel has spied upon American armed forces(jailed Pollard)
Israel receives $4billion of military aid from America yearly
Israel daily threatens a first strike upon Iran
and has urged America to do this for them/and to subsidize it!
War is against our(American)interests(we cannot afford it!)
There is no gain to be made from expending our blood and treasure
on any nation-for another nation's benefit.Every body loses.
For a poet to warn about bellicose saber-rattling militarism is a Cassandra warning
For a nation to ignore poets is the way of this world
May all your cautionary verse be free...

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

No. 53 by David Mellor

No 53

If someone
Dies today..

Under some cloud
Or buried
Under a mountain of debt

Poked and prodded
For some signs of life
In a decayed corpse

Locked in
a house
for 2 years

Don’t say

“I’ve been there”

Or say

“I gave a concerned look”

because only the bailiffs called

and wanted to see the man
behind the door

David Mellor was born in Liverpool in 1964.  He left school with nothing, rummaged around various dead end jobs , then back to college and uni. In his 20s first discovered poetry, started writing and performing and has done so ever since. He has lived on the Wirral for the past 8 years.