Saturday, 27 September 2025

no emigrants from the grave

 no emigrants from the grave 


hothouse earth

we all beg asylum

migrants from the mad house

where’s refuge for us now


for if you take my place

and i take yours 

our viewpoints are indifferent

in the retinal fire


seared blind

we fight with our white sticks

falling off the road to ruin

the king of the castle

rules over rubble


fight and flight


our ire’s fire has scorched us

the last boat’s pyre 

has fired us up


no fool like a cold fool


the ashes of iniquity are dearth 

and it has cost us the earth

no emigrants from the grave

not one fist will throw down

the final ceremonial soil


the grave of fulfilment 

remains unfilled


where is your god now

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