Back in 2011 I saw the unfolding horror in Syria as Assads regime started to crush unarmed civilians, I wrote two poems on the site Poetry24.co.uk and I place them here hopefully make us all think of what is going on globally especially during this pandemic
Thank you for reading
Coughing out the lightness in
smoke and spiral motes of dust
mutable bed and our body acquisitions
cuttlefish ass damp from before
if I was not so ignorant
i would feel again
the tapestry of tattoos on her flank
precise inks more trustworthy
than my cock of threat
in denial and veiled seduction
pressed against her
the hum of bee air conditioning
positioning for me with rump pressure
she felt I could make her sparkle and shine
instead that tremored gasp
returning to her back
looking with a certain knowing
that I was a flake
who would leave and betray
adding to that pile of detritus
and awful decay that was her life
gutless form of
grey flannel
and bowler hat
tapping briefcase
with finger
pencil callused
autocratic directions
of how the
shapeless should fit
tailors chalk on cloth
decisive lines
to trim or sew
mouths stitched so
neatly shut
limbs severed so that
the fall of material
should be so suitable
old money new money
contra entries
that become the washerwomans
laundry
in colonial towns
with brighter sun
and sweated brows
grey flannel choke
and soft eton tones
cruciform stretched
with benefits denied
g&t cold pink lemonade
taking canapes on landscaped lawn
take a bow doff your cap
grateful for what you
don’t receive
inbred subservience
of the golden age
long shadows
keeping us in the dark
mouth torn open
begins to shout
blood on lips
blood on tongue
strike a match
to cauterize
and light the beacon torch
flannel shadows
cannot keep us hidden
or denied
we have voices
as we are many
and you are few
copyyright Chris Lawrence
when your home is not
a protective shelter to dignity and heart,
where government scythes away
public voices in favour of a few,
nervous rattle of doors
closing on opportunities
for those we should cherish,
disabled now disenfranchised
workless sanctioned and berated
for just existing,
statistics and targets
media fodder,
minimum wage hunter gatherers
chasing food bank trails
as rent arrears accumulate,
things are getting brighter
economy booming,
so some say
a cautious tale of cynicism
is needed to chew on this pill
of crushed realisations,
we have awoken
but not awake
written in response to the Conservatives taking victory in the elections and Cameron claiming power again
accelerate harder
trees tremor passed,
what is against the heart
and rain streaked glass,
prophecy and a government system
insulted by the freaks of lottery
money was not to be
the blanket of insidious content,
radio breaks it down
speed accompanies the heart,
the bitch most malicious
than spilled gasoline
with a well lie lubricated tongue
speaks of equality
pace of society,
why feel betrayed
as if she where sat alongside you
taunting as if fertile
yet as barren as a thousand year
old desert,
tires bite into blacktop
staining and smearing
with billows of smoke,
there can be only one ultimatum,
terror inflates the throat
choking on that swelling promise
of nothing,
beyond sharp curve of road
open air
and sweet mist valley
and the feeling of
wanting to fly
open link night #145
one day the paint becomes too heavy for the wall
and as it falls
i snarl at the wooden frame window,
going beyond
the being drunk for days on end,
curled flakes green paint
like that of a psychiatric unit
even smelled of it,
my body grey
not creased by laughter,
ceiling fan
juddering illusion blades
imagined tugging away flesh
from my bioluminescent bones,
bareback
once ridden by the sun
penetrated by raw illumination,
walls began to shift
i am to be released
as a lost savage
in a wet city
stairs cluttered with toys
piled to be removed,
except one
that discreetly coiled
it’s own way down,
suction brush
to that clattering canister,
a sound
disturbing to child and cat,
drowning calls
of the need to suckle
partake in natures feast,
goddess did not yield
flowing locks
size fourteen
barefoot
not pregnant anymore,
prepared her strength
as he in den,
stressed oblique
took their life up his nose
snorting and breathing,
saying he had control,
yet so far from shore
he was unable to wave,
her way
inhaling only air
with bare soul
loaded the car with kids
and left,
leaving vacuum writhing
a headless cobra
on the hall floor
Action Figures by Edith Vonnegut
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