Cosmic Waves

 

From a distant sun on the cosmic waves

we heard voices raised

unintelligible to human ears

a sound from the stars

from ancient spheres,

a species born of a planet far from here

speaking through the galactic mist

we listened but the language was just noise

through the static hiss of the universal void

 

Tripping through galactic meadows

sounds so sweet, like singing angels

but the words meant nothing to us

just garbled communication

from a planet of dust

couldn't comprehend a meaning

or discern a feeling

just sounds fleeting and flipping through

the background noise of the universal stew

 

From a distant star, a far flung galaxy

a world miraculously contacted us

connecting through the maelstrom of cosmic dust

debris of comet strikes

and nebulae of dazzling light

but we couldn't understand

were they trying to hold out a hand?

or were they baring arms?

did we need to sound alarms?

 

From a different world

someplace circling a different sun

the dawn chorus had begun,

a song of hope or of hurt

sounds of happiness or of hardship

as the spaceships flew

coming into view,

were they coming to destroy or serve?

would we hold our nerve?

or would we do what we always do?

shoot first ask questions later

if only we had a translator

 

Thanks For Reading,

Peace, Love and Poetry.

Kyle.

 

Fat of Land

 

They feast

on the burnt flesh of the weak

poor bones make the stock taste sweet

give it a unique blend

oven ready

ready to dig in

the fat of the land enjoy their daily feast

whilst we burn in flames

our collective cries turned to wine

to wash down any gristle

this meal is fine

the greasy ones whistle

 

They chow down on pulled poor,

slathered in BBQ sauce

made from blood of distant lands

blood that dripped through their oily hands

the finest chefs - never need to rush

would make Ramsay blush

how they turn the bones of withered and weak

into a banquet of the meek

 

They gorge on the obscene

dribbling down their double chins

like rivers of agony and misery

their plates piled high

never too many poor for this pie

picking bits from between their teeth

they smile, as the next course enters the room

and another community is put to their doom

 

Like lambs to slaughter

a human hotpot,

gunshot picked from mouthfuls of chewed up slop

the fat of the land never stop

devouring everything it's got

the poor, the weak, outsiders to the elite

all make a tasty treat,

every single day of the week

 

 

Thanks For Reading.

Peace, Love and Poetry.

Kyle.

Death Sentence Politics

 

The reaper prowls the corridors of power

like a bony prison warden

on death row inmates’ final hours

The clock strikes.

the bells chime goodnight

another day of corruption

meals to disrupt, dodgy deals to construct

poor people’s needs to tear up

 

Death sentence politics

where they play the same party tricks

pull out the same old lies

stealing food like thieves in the night

killing with just a flick of a pen

or a chilling soundbite

 

Death sentence politics

token gesture, sticking plaster quick fix

unless you’re a party investor

incestuous nature to their shared endeavour

playing games with our lives

not a shred of care

or humanity there

in their palatial house

decorated with gold lined chairs

 

Death sentence politics

it’s the way they get their kicks

through hate, hurt and spite

they bait, hunt and bite

toeing party lines

to make us fall for their crooked crimes

 

Death sentence politics

bleed us dry with thorny sticks

beat us down with lies and conflict

until the results are in

and we vote them in again

will we ever learn anything?

 

Death row politics

no trying to exercise rights

or its the electric chair of life

plugged directly to the mains

lethal injection of your mind

as they dull our frazzled brains

 

 

Thanks For Reading.

Peace, Love and Poetry.

Kyle.