What came first, the bird, or the egg?
Well, I spotted the dead pigeon on Monday night
As I was walking down the embankment
Trying not to breathe too many fumes
Still shivering from an over-chilled office
And shocked at the sight of mangled grey feathers,
A broken neck and damaged wings
I wondered if it had been hit by a vehicle
Or disorientated, had flown beak-first
Into a mirrored tower block
Before plummeting to the pavement below.
I had no answers. Nor did anyone seem
Too interested in the fate
Of an earthbound, flying sky-rat.
I walked home, pondering
The funeral rites of a feathered pest.
The next day, passing the other way
I saw it was still there.
Must have been missed by the road sweepers
Or deliberately ignored as someone else’s problem.
That evening, Tuesday after work
I felt sure someone would have mentioned it
And had the bird disposed of
Nudged off the pavement into the gutter
At the side of the road
Still a crumpled heap. Grey feathers dirty
From the road dust and oil residue.
I walked on.
By Wednesday evening, the bird was gone.
This morning, I took a different route to work
Staying on the bus to the museum
Then walking the few blocks North to the river.
As I passed under a bridge, I saw an egg
Shell cracked, yolk scattered on the ground
Dirty down feathers floating
While trains rattled above, shaking the shadows
A lone pigeon fluttered overhead
As if mourning their loss.
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bird, Change, Commute, Commuting, Danger, Death, egg, Family, Feathers, Funeral, Life, London, Loneliness, Love, mate, Municipal, Pain, Pigeon, Poetry, prose, public, Relationships, Roadkill, sky, Train, Transport, vermin, Violence, Waste, Work
Sep · 29
We care more for ancient ruins
And destruction wrought on tombs
By whatever means they may
Than for lives that end today
While the blood and flesh and bone
Leaving everything they own
To escape the latest purge
Travel desert, sea and gorge
Those who voyage only land
On their uppers, close at hand
To the help they sorely need
Yet the politicians plead
Not to have to break their word
To the xenophobic horde
Those whose votes they barely won
From the hardened right, anon
Thus with bottle-necks and fence
We corral and harry hence
Workers that we sure could use
Grateful, welcome, unabused
Skilled and keen to integrate
To prop up our ageing State
In permissive company
Knowing just who let them be
As the fight takes to the skies
And the waves fill up with lies
We would throw away resource
Inconvenient and coarse
With no tally of the cost
Nor of what support is lost
Though our leaders might feel tall
While our borders stand, we fall Like this: Like Loading...
Absurd, Abuse, Anger, asylum, Betrayal, blind, Blood, bone, chance, Change, Children, Civil War, conflict, Conscience, Danger, Death, Destruction, Duty, Education, Empathy, Europe, Exhaustion, Family, Fear, Flesh, Foolish, frugal, geography, gratitude, History, inconvenient, Middle East, migrants, objections, Palmyra, pensions, Poetry, Politics, purge, refugees, relics, Religion, resource, Roman, Safety, Shame, skilled, Syria, travel, War, Waste, wasteful, welfare state, Workers, worrying, xenophobia
Oct · 05
Choose certain death and ostracism
Exile self-imposed; ‘tradition’
Loss of home and family
Born of faith’s supremacy
So young, with minds not fully fed
In fear of first missteps, unled
Some seek to live by others’ rules
And hope to never have to choose
While those whose choice was thrust upon
Unwary shoulders, far too young
Have just enough experience
To recognise their own good sense
And knowing that some errors will
Occur despite intentions, still
Are less afraid to persevere
And build the life they want right here.
Though actions have their aftermath
There is no righteous, clear-cut path
Please do not fear all consequence
Change is not dangerous; though dense
And unenlightened elders may
Feel life no longer goes their way
As age and distance emphasise
The loss of youth before sad eyes
Unready to relinquish reins
To those in throes of growing pains.
Decisions to abandon trust
Give up hope and freedoms; lust
For life of lesser contemplation
Out of social obligation;
Turn to ends more violent
Ignore suggestions, kindly meant
And quick condemn all other views –
Is this the path you wish to choose?
Consider this, before you do
For truly, this choice rests with you:
Such suicide invites abuse
Of others that may follow blood
For love, for family, for feud
Will throw themselves away; – jihad
In mourning for those gone before
Their minds made waste, still immature
And more than one will idolise
The first to die – if death you prize
Above the life you hold in hand
So understand, if you have planned
To be the martyr for your tribe
And leave the others still alive
The minute you take up this course
Imagining rewards; Firdaws
You lose control of what is shown
And once you’ve gone, the whole thing’s blown:
With ashes scattered over sand
Your image will be used to brand
Misinformation into truth –
Deserted and abandoned youth. Like this: Like Loading...
Abuse, Ageing, Betrayal, Blood, Cannon fodder, Change, Childhood, Choice, Closed society, Condemnation, conservatism, control, Danger, Death, Decisions, Dialogue, Dictatorship, Disenfranchisement, domestic, Elders, Exit strategy, Experience, Faith, Family, Fear, Feud, Firdaws, Grooming, Heaven, Hope, Idolatry, immature, Impressionable, Innocence, integration, Lack of comparison, Lies, Loss, Love, Martyrdom, Misinformation, Monologue, obligation, ostracism, Poetry, Power, Progress, propaganda, Rebellion, Resistance, respect, Reward, Segregation, Siblings, Social obligation, suicide, Syria, Terrorism, Tradition, Tribe, trust, truth, Violence, War, Waste, wisdom, Youth
Jul · 14