REFAAT

REFAAT

so now
they have resorted
to killing poets

because
the pen is mightier
than the sword
it is said

and they took that literally
and
    as is well known
James Bond carries
his old Q branch
speciality
of rocket-
launching pen

nothing
      more deadly

which
you know,
       we know
  
every spy agency knows this
it is something that
military intelligence
                even one
caught false flag asleep
at its post
has prepared for
extensively
trained for
exhaustively

knows
   only too well

and how can
target
    be a poet

if they are all animals?
that is the syllogism for you
to
   take to heart
the
   reactive-armour
heart they
gave you

as you plough through
guilty humanity
     steel-skinned in
your Merkava
   kampfwagen

hunting for the tunnel
will take you down to Hell

where
     poets, great poets,
will all be waiting

to raise a few things,
take issue with you

by hook
   or by crook

endeavour to persuade you
that there is
something in
this voice, about
                    this speech
that justifies itself

CLEANSE THE LAND

CLEANSE THE LAND

cleanse the land
clean
it good

render
it sacred

soon all
will flourish
death disappear
soil
  replace sand

time enough
to know what to
do with
    bone and
blood

history be written
to absorb the dead

new scripture for gods
better in our image

the meaning of what we did
lost in the philosophy of words

CUT AND DRIED

CUT AND DRIED

thing about chess
is it’s

cut
and dried

you take my bishop
I bomb
    your hospital

there may be pawns down there
lying on gurneys
lurking
    in tunnels

one run
    through to
the perimeter
               and beyond

we could be facing
a brace of Queens

vying to sacrifice for
the triumph of their King

victpry
    defeat

        so strategic this battle
to an altogether special
                                  level
of native
       human genius

nothing in this benighted
                                   world

so cut and dried

COTTON CANDY

COTTON CANDY

you must
fight and die
for cotton candy

fight and die
for a thin processed
meat sausage
jammed
   into role

you must
fight and die
to appease, suppress
our archetypal
shadow

for aeons old
collective guilt
            you no longer feel

must give your life
throw it away for nothing really
for your right
       to keep God for yourself
address him
   in your language by the very
name you gave him

translated from a foreign,
ancient text
you do not own
           and can no
                      longer read

but above all, hero,
                         it’s
for
    cotton candy