Beyond the Bunker. 

     There is a contender - a threat to Man's 
Disgraceful history born of self,
It doesn't belong to Id, 
But seats itself firmly in a house
That comforts the lazy, 
     It totes a spliff of ignorance,
Getting high as it passes with 
Kindred that have 'done'
With themselves,
Shining their eyes with only
Murder in mind for anyone
Keen to disturb their pretentions
Of streetwise and gangster worries. 

     They talk the talk
And think they walk the walk 
Of hard knocks and harder ego's
     and,
'They', can kill. 

     Their house is daubed
With red food colouring
And their collection of DVD's
Tells a sorry tale,
A tale of  heros
And blatant male erotica,
The lone gunner who kills
A thousand 'paki's'
Then glints at the camera
While flexing biceps,

     Yet,
They will kill
For this nation, so they say.

     The contender knows them well,
The contender knows too,
The authority that will put a bullet
Between their eyes, 
The authority that created 
Their, imprisonment, 
Both parties, believing of
Themselves the same,
Both dating the whore
That shits on cenotaphs with glee. 

     The 'Old Boys' know 
This, they know too
The contender, 
They have met it before
When dropping assassins
Who chop off the heads of poets, 
     They could help,
But the lust the protagonists 
Of hate protract upon the world
Is gathering too much love,
     So they march a distant 
Line to a distant Sun 
Over a distant cliff for the pain
Of repetition; to see the same
Young children murdered over 
     and 
Over again,
Is beyond the perplexetives
And compassion of life itself. 

     The contender
Sits with glee
In a house built for murder, 
And this time,
     It may win. 

 

Michael J Waite 6th July 2016.