Daily Archives: August 27, 2016

Border Country by Fran Lock

In Between Hangovers

i walked a cold night through to thaw in seeking
out our shattered landmark. long before i saw i
smelled the mildew, ditches, burning rubber –
your own impoverished pheromone, love. i breathed
it in. i found a place to wash, watched over by old
men, slumped at their insolvent leisure. i watched
them, astute to dominoes, and full of bellyaching
acumen. they tot the score, and cheat with slurred
compunction. i breathe it in and go, out into the fly
tipped half-light; the rim of the world is glowing
like a muted television. i walk to the church, not
locked but hollowed out by wind, and dripping
like a limestone cave. it matters not, the village has
its envies and its petty worships still. narrow streets,
cottages encumbered by an unenticing quaintness.
dilapidated gingerbread, cobwebbed to gothic
nonplus. tourists will not come. or god, again.
women whisper like slow…

View original post 245 more words

The Face of War by Nick Cooke

I am not a silent poet

They ask the boy not to wipe his face

so all can see the blood and gunpowder.

Does he whine or protest? He does not.

Does he cry for his mother? He does not.

He goes along with everything they ask

because, let’s face it, he is dead inside

or if not dead, then an automaton,

a bloody five-year-old automaton.

He’s a boy that should be in the street

with a ball, and if you threw one at his feet

and told him he had to play, he likely might –

with the same blank eyes that admit no light.

We are people that should be on the street

and some may be, but most are in their seat

sure as they can be it will come out right –

there are always others to carry the fight.

We gaze from behind the polished lens

and clearly see the blood…

View original post 49 more words