4th August 1914
Germany invades Belgium
Great Britain declares war on Germany
Millions die. The roses of Picardy
Bloom red like blood,
The sun shines on. The yellow wheat
Drifts and flows in the summer breezes still.
This quiet landscape will soon explode,
Shot through with the bloody gore of war.
We swore: hands bloody, burnt, raw.
Sweet Christ, what was it all for?
11th November 1918
Jack’s terraced house knocked down, gone
Like the kids he didn’t have:
Women who never wed
Married to the dead instead.
After four years fighting in mud
He was broken, gone.
4th August 1964
Time spread-out like the AIDS
Quilt, of decades later,
A besmirched bloody innocence,
Now only this strange music
Echoes of boots clumping
Through the bloody mud.
3rd August, 2014
Daesh launch a genocidal attack
Against the peaceful Ezedi people.
Thousands are murdered or enslaved
For remaining loyal to Tawûsê Melek,
The wisest of the peacock-angels,
And refusing to convert.
Fear grips her heart
The heart of a prisoner
As evening approaches
Her blind-fold slips.
She begins to shake
She remembers Mount Sinjar
And the wicked Salafists
Mocking the life-giving sun.
Now so many Ezedi women
Enslaved by the Jihadis’ gun
And still the west does not come.