• The doves they are the birds of peace

The Hawks they silently slaughter

They come like snipers from the East

To murder sons and daughters

They brainwash young idealists

They tell them they are martyrs

They strap them with explosives

To kill innocent bystanders

The leaders live within the hills

Protected by their soldiers

But like all of histories infidels

Who thought they were dictators

They ended their corrupted lives

In bunkers or in craters

        An Irish Summer

We packed the picnic basket

We organised the car

We plastered on the sun cream

The swimsuit and guitar

We had our little sing song

As we drove along the coast

The visor down to block the sun

We’re turning into toast

We arrive onto the sun kissed beach

We organise our towels

And just as we have settled in

The wind begins to howl

The sand it whips across the dunes

Our expressions turn to scowling

The towels are flying down the beach

The goosebumps are appearing

The waters lapping around our feet

The sandwiches are all sodden

We then retreat admit defeat

And make for home downtrodden
Jpoet7

The instructor roars out orders loud

In Military style that makes him proud

The Drills that train a man to kill

To take a life is an accomplished skill

The serpents fanned the fires of hell

The demons of the damned did yell

The sorrow in their hearts to tell

Oh, How the rich and mighty fell.
The heat the flames the roaring cries

Ignored by satan’s fiery eyes

Who sneered and snarled and wormed his way

Into their minds and souls, to play.
Remember, deep in your mind engraved

The many lives you could have saved

If yours were not so mad, depraved

Innocents dumped in lime filled graves.

They cried for help in times of pain

History repeating again and again

The horror cycle will still remain

The hunger for power is a human domain.

Forlornly she stared into the distance. The years of hardship etched into her lonely face.

 She had lost everything, and now the ultimate loss. 

Too old to travel she is left alone and destitute.

Standing amidst the ruins of her miserable life. 

She watched as in the distance her family left 

 bundled unceremoniously into tiny rafts.

A child tightly hugging a filthy teddy bear.

Her tear stained face streaked in muddy streams. 

No tears left to shed in her wide brown eyes

 she can but hope that her children will survive.

Sew a seed and let it grow

for a greener future one never knows

Educate the young on greenhouse gasses

In schools teach botany in our classes
The world would be a better place

If coal and methane took second place

Let’s start at home and plant a tree

And try our best to be smoke free
Let politicians discuss ad nauseam

procrastinate never solve the problem

If we don’t act now we’ll all regret

And the atom bomb won’t be the only threat

I looked into their eyes.

The    Children

Through the dirt and thro’ the      tears.

The Children.
The sorrow and the pain.

The Children.
In the mud and in the rain.

The Children.
Across murderous terrain.

The Children.
In overcrowded boats, in vain.

The Children.
From far off Syria they came.

The Children.
To our eternal shame.

The Children.
We closed off all our borders.

The Children.
The armies under orders.

The Children.
They sat dying huddled in corners.

The Children.
They talked about world aid.

The Children.
Over lunch in rooms first grade.

The Children.
Decisions too long delayed.

The Children.
We should bow our heads in shame

The Children.
Too many now to claim.

The Children.
On the economy a drain.

The Children.
Send them back from where they came

The Children.
An atrocity again.

The Children.
Do we want to understand.

The Children.
We just pretend to lend a hand.

The Children.
Lye dying on the strand.

The Children.

The private jet had touched down earlier arriving from Malpensa airport. She had stepped elegantly onto the runway and into the waiting chauffeur driven limousine. She was whisked away speedily past the normal security checks and off to her location. She is a model, the daughter of a South American Diplomat and a lady famous not only for her looks but also for her left wing ideals.

She was here for a photo shoot and as usual on occasions there was an army of paparazzi awaiting her arrival, and of course her burly body guards who were always conspicuous by their dress code. Although immensely wealthy in her own right she had never flaunted it in public and today was no exception. There was always a buzz and a tension about and an edginess the cut through the air. ……………………