Some amusement to distract you from what is going on.

Mariupol – A symbol of what is WRONG!!

Instead of trying to build a better world and solve the massive problems facing us (climate change, biodiversity, mass migration, poverty, inequality, overpopulation ………..) we have madmen spending trillions destroying cities and slaughtering innocent people!!

As a species we are utterly insane!! We put these psychotic fools in charge of us!!

We won’t forget!! This is the 21st Century!! They are behaving like crazed barbarians!!

Poetry – National Interests

National Interests

National interests always come first –

Territory, oil or eliminating threat.

Enemies require neutralising.

We have to address the national debt.

Behind our leaders are financiers

Whose business interests run the game.

They pull the strings, rig elections

Use the media to point the blame.

They like wars; wars make them rich –

All that matters is power

Soldiers are expendable,

Cities lie in ruins,

As they turn the future sour.

Opher – 3.5.2022

It’s not national interests at all, is it? It’s the interests of a small elite.

War is a big money-maker.

They sell the arms. They sell the products to rebuild.

They knock it down and build it up. Win Win.

Their shares go mad. Their wealth increases.

Who cares about the people when there’s money to be made? Who cares about the death, destruction and maimed. Pawns in the game.

The stock market runs the show. Profit is the motive.

They are dicing with death.

Poetry – Bogged Down in Death

Bogged Down in Death

Bogged down in the mud –

                Targets for the taking.

Mutinous and exhausted

                Morale through the floor.

Witnessing horror.

                Souls aching. Innocents quaking.

They can’t take it anymore.

Blunted by terror,

                By what their eyes have seen,

They are mindless

                Killing machines.

Bodies litter streets

                Mass graves and executions,

Without hope, as in a dream, totally obscene.

Looting and pillaging,

                Raping and killing,

Insane with propaganda.

                No fear of prosecution,

Expecting death.

                No longer fighting for anything grander. 

Empty vessels drawing breath.

Colossal losses,

                Capricious missiles,

Carnage beyond imagination.

                Seeking fascism in the wrong place,

Driving democracy out

                From an entire nation.

The dance of death’s own disgrace.

Opher – 2.5.2022

As with most wars, it starts with expectations of a swift conclusion but ends in the reality of long-drawn-out attrition.

Propaganda steals minds.

Soldiers witness the horrors of seeing friends maimed and blown to pieces beside them. There is no skill – only luck. Living in the shadow of constant terror the mind becomes numb.

When the opportunity presents itself they seek revenge, an outlet, an orgy of release. They execute, rape, torture and exert their power. It’s all they have. They have ceased to be human. They are immune to conscience.

All that exists is death.

There is no end in sight, no escape – just more of the same until the orders are given or the bullet strikes.

Who is to blame? It’s always the ones safe in the bunkers giving out the orders.

Poetry – Without a Care for Tomorrow

Without a Care for Tomorrow

They sit behind their desks

                Distributing order

                                To the goons who

                                                Put them into action.

Safe within their bunkers

                They unleash destruction

                                To wreck the lives

                                                Of those from other factions.

Aloof from death,

                Apart from agony,

                                Unmoved by misery

                                                Unleashed.

They quaff their wine,

                Eat their banquets,

                                Bask in luxury

                                                While people quake in horror.

Selfishly they stash the cash,

                Secure the power,

                                Spread the propaganda

                                                Without a care for tomorrow.

Opher – 26.4.2022

The ones who unleash the horrors of war are not the ones who fight it or suffer from its consequences. They are safe, miles away, secure in underground bunkers, far from the action.

They do not get to see the results of their orders, to hear the screams or see the grief. They do not feel the terror. They are far away from the smell of cordite, the sound of explosions and the horror of exploding bodies.

They do not have to pick up the body parts of babies or bury the dead.

They live a life of opulence while their orders ruin lives far away.

They are evil personified.

Poetry – Unseen Wounds

Unseen Wounds

The wounds unseen

                Bleed into the mind.

Some will bleed forever

                Others leave a deep scar.

Lives have disappeared,

                Homes smashed.

Possessions lost,

                Stolen by a Russian Czar.

What help can we give

                To those who have

                                Been hurt so much?

Who mourn their loved ones?

Who can heal

                Wounds cut so deep

                                Into the tissues of brains?

Where do we find the funds?

Opher – 26.4.2022

The physical damage is obvious – the destroyed houses, the blown up schools and hospitals, bleeding, broken bodies and heaps of corpses tossed into mass graves.

The physical destruction wrought by war is devastating.

What is not so obvious are the wounds cut into peoples’ minds.

Those grieving for destroyed lives, for loved ones killed or maimed, for what should have been. Those who have lost so much.

What cannot be seen are the traumas created by witnessing the horrors, seeing death, seeing the dead bodies of those you have loved.

These images cannot be erased. These fears and grief cannot be comforted away.

These ae the injuries that destroy minds and last a lifetime.

War creates trauma.

Poetry – The Brigands

The Brigands

The brigands charged down the hill,

Swords raised,

With chilling battle cries,

Thundering hooves.

Callously and gleefully they butchered men, women and children,

Set fire to huts,

Raped, tortured and looted.

But those were the days of long ago.

Nothing changes.

Except, now they use drones

And ‘peace keepers’.

Opher – 12.7.2020

Once upon a time we built walls around our cities and had fortified castles; we raised armies and kept constant watch.

What a way to spend your life – in fear of brigands.

They’d sweep down with their armies, killing, torturing, looting and raping.

Nowadays we’re much more sophisticated. We do it from afar.

Poetry – One Day

One Day

One day life was normal.

                The next flung into fear.

One day our houses full

                Of things we hold dear.

Now the towns are scenes of death.

Invaders seek to steal our breath.

Our cities pounded into heaps of rubble.

We huddle in basements safe within our bubble.

One day life was normal.

Once we had a home.

Once our lives had meaning

Sweet as any poem.

One day life was normal.

                The next flung into fear.

One day our houses full

                Of things we hold dear.

It will rise again,

                Out of the ashes.

                                We will build again

                                                And heal the hideous gashes.

Opher – 21.4.2022

I’ve spent the whole of my life in the modern world without being touched by the terror of war.

The wars seemed to happen in other countries far away, to people who were not like me.

War seemed primitive, a relic of the past.

It felt that we had been up trade and relationship to such a level that war was inconceivable.

Then the Ukraine happened.