Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Truce Bomb

The pound’s dropping
And in Syria   they’re dropping like flies
But there’s nothing to gain
Just humanity
And a couple of kids
Trapped together

Melted in two
But they’re foreign blood
And you hate your next door neighbour
And you’re pissed off with your friend
And you can’t remember your credit card number

No time to look at the screen
It’s digital
Coloured glass

The pain lives on
While you sip a foreign glass

Copyright©David  R Mellor 2012

Syria unrest has killed 60,000, says UN

David was born in Liverpool in 1964. He left school with nothing, rummaged around various dead end jobs, then back to college and uni. In his 20s he first discovered poetry, starting writing and performing and has done so ever since. I has lived on the Wirral for the past 8 years.