The First Victim of War

War poetry

The First Victim of War

We’re listening to the news

To find what we have in store.

Just a sanitised version –

Truth is always the first victim of war.

We’re told casualty numbers

So that we can keep the score.

We don’t know if we can trust them.

Truth is always the first victim of war.

The rich are still making money

As sanctions hit the poor.

All carefully hidden up;

Truth is always the first victim of war.

The sight of the broken victims

Touch us to the core,

But how much is propaganda?

Truth is always the first victim of war.

The horror of the war crimes

All civilised people deplore.

Are paraded before us

Truth is always the first victim of war.

It crystallises clearly

What it is that we stand for.

The truth we hold before us:

Truth is always the first victim of war.

Opher – 1.3.2022

I’m watching all the news with a critical eye. I am aware of the propaganda being poured forth on both sides.

The Russians are putting forward a view that their glorious soldiers are liberating enslaved Ukrainians who are living under a neo-Nazi regime.

We are seeing reports of Russian soldiers surrendering, refusing to fight and abandoning equipment.

We see the gallant citizens making Molotov cocktails and people flooding back into the country to fight the invader.

Russia tightens its grip and pounds civilian areas with cluster bombs and missiles.

War is nothing more than organised murder.

The truth??  Hard to see clearly in the fog of war.

Putin And Johnson

Putin And Johnson

Putin and Johnson

                Will soon be dust.

                                Their crooked regimes

                                                Will tumble and rust.

The pyramids

                Will blow in the wind

                                Even the galaxy

                                                Will cease to spin.

Nobody left

As the stars will go out

                                To wonder what

                                                It was all about.

Opher – 25.6.2022

I’m going through one of my philosophical moods.

One short life.

We can waste it or live it.

Purpose that we create for ourselves.

We can do something positive or we can do nothing.

We can build or destroy.

We can care or hate.

We can look after the planet or be greedy vandals.

The only thing that matters is what we do in the moments that make up our lives. A positive force or a negative force. The moment is all we have. Nothing lasts.

When it is over it is gone.

I Make War!!

I Make War!!

I fire bullets.

                I fire rockets.

                                I drop bombs.

                                                Lives in my pockets.

I plan wars.

                I give orders.

                                I send troops

                                                Across borders.

I kill children.

                I rape girls.

                                I destroy.

                                                The game unfurls.

I’m the leader,

                I make rules,

                                Setting targets

                                                For the fools.

I make love.

                I make law.

                                Power and greed.

                                                I make war!

Opher – 31.3.2022

Without the goons there would be no war. The tyrants make the rules and direct the troops. The mindless zombies carry out the wishes. They shoot, they rape and kill. The despots treat us like fools.

Given Time

Given Time

We’ll all be friends again

                                                Given time!

Though cities flattened

                                                In unprecedented crime.

Things will change

                                                Without sense or rhyme.

Cities restored

                                                In softer clime.

Once again

                                                All things will chime.

It will have all been for nothing!

                                                Given time!!

Opher – 28.3.2022

While the politicians play their games of power using people as pawns. It’s a game where lives are just statistics. Trillions of dollars are spent killing and destroying.

For spurious reasons the politicians ruin lives.

The people are caught in the middle, manipulated, exploited and lied to.

It’s all about power and wealth though they try to convince you that it’s really about safety.

So Putin kills to liberate in an Orwellian doublethink. He’d have the Russian population believe that it is necessary as there is an existential threat.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had one world without the stink of war and all that money could be spent on education, solving poverty, art and recreation.

I went to visit Vietnam and Cambodia recently. It clearly demonstrated to me the sheer stupidity of war – a devourer of huge resources and creator of trauma.

It’s time for the UN to step in and arrest all the leaders who resort to such barbaric evil practices.

The Long Table

The Long Table

Cowering in his bunker

                At the end of a long table.

Fist full of death.

                Escape? He is unable.

Putin the oppressor

                Fake news and conspiracy.

Dealing out destruction

                Deaf to every plea.

Opher – 23.3.2022

I had a picture of Putin cowering at the end of his long table, distancing himself from the world, isolated and alone.

He looked weak, threatened and pathetic.

This was a man scared of his own shadows.

All he had left was a desire to hit out.

A Big Black Cloud

A Big Black Cloud

There was a big black cloud

                In the deep blue sky.

One moment sunshine

                Then wondering why.

We were shopping,

                Eating meals,

                                Laughing and planning

                                                Trips to the cinema.

Tanks rolled down the streets

                With bullets

                                Shells and missiles

                                                A howling, satanic choir.

No more normal.

                Ordinary forever gone.

After the days of terror

                Life is always wrong.

Opher – 5.4.2022

In this day and age it is hard to imagine the barbarity of war coming out of the blue.

This is Europe in 2022!

It’s barbaric.

I do not believe that the Ukrainian people really believed it would happen. One minute they were living normal lives in modern cities and the next they were hiding in cellars as the Russians turned their cities to rubble.

The Hall of Infamy

The Hall of Infamy

Wednesday morning at five o clock as the day begins. That’s when we started putting the final touches for the show together. It takes a lot of work to put together a Media Show. I don’t think anybody knows how much effort goes in. The team spends all week gathering all the little clips on our candidates – clips that will get the crowd going, and that final day is madness as we rehearse, write the links and decide the final format.

That’s where I come in – Bang Max – the man who gets the crowd roaring. It’s my job to pull it altogether and make a show out of it. I’m Bang Max the showman. I have, even if I say so myself, made the Hall Of Infamy the biggest show on Earth. Our ratings are through the roof.

Last week we focused on the mucilaginous gunrunners. This week it’s the politicians turn.

Time to hit the boards. Cue flies, hair and smile.

‘OK you Crazy Crew!!!’ I started with my trademark greeting to get the show off the ground, looking right into the camera and gesticulating, wide-eyed and looking suitable manic.

A great roar went up from the audience that I milked for all it was worth.

‘Last week you chose that slimy scumbag Leonid Minin, the Ukranian gunrunning thug, as the latest entry to our Hall of Infamy.’

Another great roar of approval went up.

‘A good choice,’ I agreed, nodding my head and grinning round at them all.

I quietened them with a motion of my hands, changing my expression to one of seriousness.

‘This week we turn our attention to politicians,’ I told them what they already knew.

A big oooooh went round the studio. They understood their role and were playing it to perfection – an integral part of the show.

‘So which one of these scurvy shysters is going to join Minin in the Hall of Infamy?’ I asked, mouth open, hands upturned.

Shouts and hollers echoed round as they bellowed their choices. I let it run a few seconds before cutting back in. The show depended on their energy but it had to be controlled. There was only one maestro here, and that was me – Big Bang Max. I called the shots.

‘Well you’ve already expressed your views,’ I told them in conspiratorial tones. ‘The votes are in.’ I paused dramatically. ‘You’ve told us who you want.’ A great murmur went round the studio. ‘It seems that dithering May, Blithering Boris and moldy Mogg didn’t make the cut.’

There were cries of dismay but the excitement still built. They wanted to know who was in.

‘No!’ I told them, pausing again, raising the level of tension a notch and dragging it out just long enough. ‘We’ve got it down to two. You’ve instructed us that it’s between these two behemoths of populist ugliness. That it is down to these two purveyors of hate and division.’

I allowed the bated breaths to hang as they waited on my words.

‘Which of these two lying, disgusting perverters of democracy are you going to vote in to join the savage Minin and the other sleazy paedophiles, murderers, rapists, serial killers and warmongers in the Hall of Infamy?’

They roared. They wanted to know who it was that they had to choose between. They were chanting names, on their feet, stamping and waving their arms.

‘You’ve chosen……………..’ having to raise my voice above the din, I waited for exactly the right moment, ‘a run-off between the gun-mad, scourge of the Amazon – Bolsonaro!’ A great bellow of approval nearly took the roof off. ‘And the hate rallying, Muslim bashing, epitome of arrogance – Trump!’

A bigger roar shook the walls.

Over the next half hour we ran through the video clips, juxtaposing the carefully chosen cameos, as I gave each one a nice little intro and biting comment, as I played the audience, working them up into a frenzy and maintained the balance of humour, disbelief and anger that made the show the success it was.

We had Bolsonaro threatening to build a motorway through the Amazon, Trump working up his base with evocations of ‘Drain the Swamp’, ‘Crooked Hilary’, and ‘Lock Her Up’, Bolsonaro taking away all environmental restrictions and opening up the jungle for logging and farming. There was Trump urging his mob to beat up hecklers, Bolsanaro looking to arm everyone to beat crime. Then Trump, looking surly as he pulled out of the Paris Treaty, while Bolsonaro stated how he was going to hunt out and shoot all the leftists. Trump building walls, supporting the NRA and exaggerating the threat of the refugees, portraying them as an invasion of rapists, murderers and Muslim terrorists and Bolsonaro saying the Blacks were not even good enough for procreation and should go back to the zoo and that an opposition politician was too ugly to rape – that the Juntas mistake was to torture but not kill.

I brought it all to a head.

‘Which one of these clowns is the most repugnant? Who’s the most despicable?’ I asked them as they bayed and chanted their choices. ‘Which one deserves to be included in the Hall of Infamy?’

‘Who’s your choice? Grab your buzzers.’

‘Time to vote!’

The Long Table

The Long Table

Cowering in his bunker

                At the end of a long table.

Fist full of death.

                Escape? He is unable.

Putin the oppressor

                Fake news and conspiracy.

Dealing out destruction

                Deaf to every plea.

Opher – 23.3.2022

I had a picture of Putin cowering at the end of his long table, distancing himself from the world, isolated and alone.

He looked weak, threatened and pathetic.

This was a man scared of his own shadows.

All he had left was a desire to hit out.