13 November 2015 to 16 November 2015 by Helen May Williams

I am not a silent poet

pebbles on a beach

cubes in an underground vault

human lives lived in

interstices of cement —

blocks of space & blocks of time

 ..

friday the thirteenth —

lately there is no exit

no waking dream no

ingenious solution

to resolve nightmare deadlock

 ..

Bataclan Paris

organised barbarism —

paleolithic curse

two tribes live side by side

each one the barbarians

 ..

‘ . . . gunman in the eye

he was young in his twenties

calmly reloading’

 ..

whorled calcium shells

dissolve into fatal white dust

clouds of destruction

 ..

‘ran to lighting room

right of stage —ten people there

there was no exit

we had run from one trap to

next —  we waited for silence

 ..

‘. . . . reloading their guns

so we ran across the stage

saw them firing on

piles of people in the room

my eyes saw scene of carnage

View original post 209 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s