Friday, 3 July 2015


On the hottest July day on record they come home.
Thunder and lightning outside, inside a ‘should have expected that’ groan.
Carried by soldiers, those lost few?
People who just wanted to sit on a beach and have a drink or two?
Well, what’s new?
Everyone’s a hero if there’s mileage for ‘the few’.

Now don’t misunderstand.
I mourn these few and luckless band.
But all they needed was a flag over those boxes
To make them part of the ‘hero’ gang.

Respect? No, I think it something far more toxic.

Blair and Bush hang your heads in shame.
This is the price of you pointless game.
These men and women weren’t soldiers,
They had not signed up for death.
But as a result of your actions
They will become just another wreath.

Breathless, this heat too hot,
Thunder rumbles, lightening illuminates my thoughts.
Keep the Friday silence,
But don’t buy into what shouldn’t be bought.
I will simply keep these happy holidaymakers
Alive inside my thoughts.


  1. So many minute silences. How I hate them.

  2. So many minute silences. How I hate them.