Poetry – Feel The Hate

Feel The Hate

I could feel the hate

                As we barrelled down the street.

Memories of Ivan and Mihail

Splattered on concrete.

Expecting to die.

                Flinching at every sound.

Bracing for the explosion

                To send me oblivion bound.

The old man came cycling around the corner

                He saw us up ahead.

I saw his terrified eyes.

                Pulled the trigger. He was dead.

Opher – 7.4.2022

I was watching on the news. There was a drone videoing as a cyclist was shot dead by the advancing Russians in Buccha. The street was littered with civilians they had shot.

I wondered why. What was the reason? Why indiscriminately kill civilians.

Poetry – Putin’s Dust

Putin’s Dust

Bedding to ashes

                Houses to dust

Sure and certain

                Cities resurrected

Traumatised people

                Suffer eternally.

Pounded to rubble

                Killed to be saved

Liberators in khaki

                Dispensers’ of death

Following orders

                Mindless madness.

Committed to the ground

                Flesh to earth

Pulverised

                To pulp

Grandiose plans

                Paranoia and power.

Curtains to ashes

                Children to dust

Futures to earth

                Hope to rust!

Dreams dissolved

                Horrors unleashed.

Time does not heal!

                Time does not heal!

                                Time does not heal!

Time just moves on.

                It moves on

                                And takes the stains with it.

Opher – 31.3.2022

War traumatises all who come into contact with it. It traumatises. It breaks minds. It ruins lives

The jigsaw puzzles cannot be put back together.

Minds are broken, damaged.

There is a stain that lasts forever.

It damages the victors as much as the victims.

Putin will suffer.

Is this why we put psychopaths in charge? Because they have no feelings for the suffering they instigate?

Is this why we elect sociopaths because they enjoy inflicting pain?

Are these leaders human?

Do they not become disturbed by the death and suffering they unleash?

Cities are rebuilt but the stains remain.

People cannot be rebuilt. The survivors are often the unlucky ones.

Part of them is forever destroyed.

War.

Nothing can ever be normal again.

Poetry – Not For Me

Not For Me

Not for me the trauma of shattered mind

Or blown off limbs.

Not for me a life ruined

Family and friends dead

Or for meagre rations queuing

As aspiration dims.

Not for me the constant terror

Waiting for the missile blast.

I’ve lived a privileged life

And I want it to last.

So I’ll support the UN

And the EU too.

Both far from perfect

But I think they’ll do.

I’ll work for a unified world

In which petty nationalism has been expelled.

For I know that in talk and trade

Better relationships are made.

Opher – 30.9.2019

I am probably the first generation who was not thrown into the cauldron of war. Hence I am not traumatised.

War is a monster.

It is a monster that needs putting to sleep.

Terror and Total War – The theory and Practice still put to use today by ISIL.

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There is nothing new about the use of terror as a weapon of war.

Alexander the Great used the tactics in his war with the against the Persians, way back in 332 BC. He was so furious at the way the fortified island city of Tyre held out against him, forcing him to waste much time and energy to defeat them, (it took months and he had to construct a causeway out to the island in order to capture the city) that he made an example of them. His idea was that everyone else should see what happened to people who resisted him.

He destroyed the city. Sold 30,000 into slavery and massacred 8,000 civilians. He had them crucified on the beach for everyone to see.

The message soon got round. Many came over to his side to escape his wrath and people were terrified to stand against him.

We can see the same tactics being used by ISIL. Nowadays they use social media to show mass beheadings, people locked in cars and blown up with rocket launchers, underwater film of people being drowned as they are slowly lowered into the water, people have their heads blown off with plastic explosive, being buried alive, thrown off high building, slowly crushed and people being burnt alive in cages. It is barbaric and gruesome, cruel, heartless and callous (and all in the supposed name of religion!) but, in the short  term it is highly effective.

As with Alexander the Great it sends terror into the hearts of the enemy. Despite the fact that the Iraqi troops far outnumbered the ISIL troops ISIL have been able to take places like Palmira. The Iraqi troops were so terrified at the thought of what would happen to them if they were caught that they ran away.

In the long term it will lead to the utter annihilation of ISIL. The revulsion for their tactics will unite civilised people in opposing them. Even pacifist like myself are so repulsed by their primitive inhumanity that they want them, and their intolerant savage doctrine, eradicated. People will soon recognise that ISIL is not driven by religious conviction so much as megalomania and animalistic blood-lust. Their Jihadists are in it for the sex and excitement, the religious fervour is a sham.

Terror gives short-term advantage and a long-term heavy reckoning. ISIL’s days are numbered. The whole world has had enough of their evil.

The Spider – I told you it was evil!

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I am an arachnophobe. That makes me slightly biased when it comes to spiders. But only slightly.

Everyone knows that spiders are evil. They not only look that way but they act it too. They plan, scheme and behave vindictively with maximum malice.

Yesterday we had a huge house spider. It scurried under the bath and hid. We could not coax it out and I knew it was planning.

I wrote my poem about it.

This morning there was a loud piercing scream from the bedroom. My good lady was in there getting dressed. She’d put on her top and felt the slightest touch on her shoulder. Instinctively she flicked at the irritation and found she had knocked the enormous spider off her shoulder on to the floor.

It had surreptitiously hidden under her clothes waiting its opportunity. When she got dressed it had gleefully held on in hopes of terrorising her.

Once its cunning plan had been interrupted (It had obviously lurked in her clothing ready to suddenly scurry on to her face and scare the wits out of her) it attempted to run off behind the cupboard.

My wife deployed gravity and mass effectively. She brought down her slipper on it.

We now wait in dread for the night. We know it has family (probably older siblings and parents) and, when it is inky black and we are sound asleep, they will seek revenge.