why not a job by Martin Hayes

why not a job

to dedicate your life to

why does it always have to be

a man who died on a cross

or who disappeared under a fig tree

or who was the last messenger

to bring the words of an invisible and unreachable God to us

those words

don’t feed us or keep us warm

they don’t feed the homeless man or woman

but a job could put a pair of gloves on their hands

a job could put a hat on their head

why does a job not get sung out for in churches

have drums

beaten for it

why not a job that pays for the water and food that goes into the mouth’s of a family

wouldn’t it be better to stand up for our right to have a job

rather than our right to hold a gun in our hands

why not a job

to dance about in the streets for

to paint stars into the dark sky for

why not a job

that pays for a roof over our heads

feeds electricity and heat into our homes

rather than a bullet into a “raghead” neck

why not a job as our right

rather than these Gods

that we keep rattling our cages for

why can’t these jobs be our Gods

our way of earning a living

the religion

that we would die for

rather than the colour of a flag

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Russia on the roulette table by Mark Young

Spare us the conspicuous parasol. It is too late to turn them around. What’s wrong with a provincial party boss who has cultivated a following by denouncing “entrenched interests” & promoting individual happiness over party perquisites? Elsewhere, the Tea Party zealots, those radical evangelicals, homophobes, & misogynists, were welcomed to the School by students pounding Japanese ceremonial drums. Our stringent export licensing laws make us feel like freaks, like colorless technocrats & conservatives, some sort of alien menace, but they do not breach the “professional and apolitical ethos” of the nation’s partisan schism, the divided government. Secretly, Trump would like to see Putin in the White House, as if, perhaps, they might really become emperor & empress.

From the Inside by Pagan Paul

To whom it may concern.
To anyone who remembers me.
I bet you thought I was dead,
hidden in this house of lunacy.

You had me brought here,
so this letter to you I pen.
This place is cold and sterile,
I can’t wait to be free again.

Was it for my own safety?
Or was it to safeguard yours?
I cannot recall the problem now,
my mind is stuck on pause.

They fill me up with pills,
keep my head in narcotic haze.
I have a soft and secure room
to wile and smile away the days.

It will be good to see your faces
when they finally let me home.
I wish one of you would write,
or call me on the telephone.

Why do you never come and visit
The Moontouched man so mad?
I’m sorry you saw my melt-down,
sorry it made you feel that bad.

I hope you will read this letter,
the pen and paper I had to borrow.
But the drugs are starting to work,
I’m so drowsy, so tired…
I’ll have to finish this tomorrow…

Street Girl by Pagan Paul

The street lamp barely pierces the gloom
as darkness fills up Nature’s room.
Any icy breeze blows down the street,
the air is full of rain and sleet.

She stands beneath the murky light,
one of a few out working tonight.
Her clothes do not reflect the weather,
miniskirt, t-shirt, long boots of leather.

Pinprick marks upon her arm reveal
a habit to hide all that she feels.
A daemon that has to be well fed,
from money made in a punters bed.

A low rumble, the quiet is disturbed,
creeping slowly, pulling up at the kerb.
Quick furtive words, a deal is complete,
she opens the door, slides into the seat.

Sometime later she has returned to her place,
crying and shaking, blood on her face.
The blood on her shirt is already dry,
and purple black bruises adorn her eyes.

She does not complain, she does not speak.
It just happens. At least once a week.
There is always one will have his way,
beat her about, and refuse to pay.

Give her a minute to fix her smile,
she will be back in just a short while.
Waiting tartly to be once more defiled,
hoping tonight she can feed her child.

She dreams her daughter will never see
this sick, dark side of her society.
For her sake she hopes to escape
the drugs, the violence, and the rape.

Maybe one eve she will not show,
her charms under the street lamps glow.
Has she escaped to a better life instead?
Perhaps she is in the river, floating dead?

But ’til then she walks the pavement.
Big smile, tits out, making a statement.
She won’t wait long for another ride,
she will block out whatever happens inside.

And the cycle repeats almost every night,
beneath the lamp with the murky light.
This is her spot, her street, her world.
This is the life of a poor street girl.

Poem for the Homeless by Pagan Paul

So you snuggle in to your bed
as you hear mid-winter calling.
The cold north wind is blowing
as the last of Autumns leaves are falling.
Did you ever stop to think
as you pull up your blankets tight?
That out in the doorways of the city
desperate figures shiver in the night.
Crowding around the soup van
blue hands grasping for the heat.
Hollowed eyes and frightened expressions
as the rain turns to stinging sleet.
The concrete pavements are hard and cold
the bridges provide scant protection.
The hot food and volunteers words
stir memories into recollection.
Once they were people of society
with homes and jobs and cars and love.
Now they fight behind the charity shops
for clothes and coats and hats and gloves.
So as you snuggle deep in your bed
and your fire starts to burn low.
Remember the people of the streets
as the sleet begins to turn to snow.

Pagan Paul is a poet from Bristol, England.
More of his poetry can be seen at  www.hellopoetry.com/paganpaul

cutlery and idealistic dreaming by Siobhan Elvis Atkins

knives were all they brought
while we had only spoons
our intention was to feed each other
and stare wide eyed at the moon

knives were all they had
when out spilled poisonous rage
stay focussed on the middle of the path
to escape this shame filled age

knives were all made blunt
cities lay in ruins
story spirals around again
the tale of impending undoing

spoons were all we made
and these were roughly hewn
the gentle ones found each other
and thrived in blissful commune

Manufactured Consent by Siobhan Elvis Atkins

I CALL FOR CALM, cried the old king.

You people cost too much,

you wear out too quickly

and die too soon.

Why is it, I beseech you?

Do I not offer you a good life?

But king we must toil while the water flows and birds fly free.

Do I not reward this with healthy rations?

But sovereign, that food is unsustainable and unhealthy.

It’s true I offer the finest apothecaries to tend to your ailments?

But king, they invent new diseases of the body and mind.

I give you shelter, do I not?

But for it we sign a death pledge, oh ruler.

Do I not offer you diversions?

But emperor, these numb us and peddle us fear.

Ho hum, I educate your children, this is true, no?

But king, it is revisionist in its teaching.

Do I not give you your voice?

But sire, you offer us shills and the disappeared also.

Confound it, do I not pray to god for your very souls?

But king, we always knew right from wrong.

Do I not give you free vote?

But sire, ’tis a choice of a two headed serpent.

Well, do I not protect you from our enemies?

But they bleed as we do, my liege.

Did I not draw up a contract which you signed?

But king, it is a manufactured consent.

..

A quick google search shows that Siobhan has had her poetry and asemic writing published in various places.  She likes walking with her dogs.  She doesn’t like writing bios.

Tiny Agonies by Jennifer Lagier

Camille sips hot coffee,
scrolls through Internet headlines:
Porn Star Says Trump Bad in Bed;
Nuclear War, Extreme Weather
Top List of 2018 Threats;
Marathon Running Mom, 10-Year-Old
Boy Latest Flu Victims;
China space station packed with
‘CANCEROUS chemicals’
to crash into Earth ‘within MONTHS’.

She is fed up starting every morning
with elevated blood pressure, wanting
to vaporize Washington DC,
exterminate White House residents,
migrate to a remote forest
or desert island
to escape rampant stupidity.
There aren’t enough bong hits
to erase oppressive, offensive reality.

Instead, she drags out magic marker,
a huge sheet of poster board,
creates a protest sign
with scathing message, pointed graphics.
She’ll share her anger and energy
with vibrant, vocal, voting females.
at the local Women’s March,
Together, they will oust inept,
sexist clowns currently in power,
bring back intelligent, humane behavior,
take over all levels of government,
make the world sane.

Damaged Gods by Rupert M Loydell

An easy typing mistake to make,
but in the context of these poems
one pertinent to belief and doubt.
Can we damage, have we damaged,

the god we wanted to believe in?
Saying the wrong thing, questioning,
ignoring, or just getting it wrong:
ambition and money, big buildings,

bad songs, an excuse for wars and
imposing our way of life on others.
Perhaps we need more words
for sorrow and despair, perhaps

we should learn how to pray again,
how to live and how to behave,
tie ourselves up in knots of thought
and accept we are just illusion.

Rupert Loydell’s books are published by Shearsman Books and Knives, Forks and Spoon Press.

Anger is an Energy by Dave Rendle

after Carillion)

They try to control us
the old enemy deep outside,
their words are dust
time to brush them away.
The first five years
are always the hardest a headline cries
rubbing salt into milky eyes.
Time to shake, the sleep away
and catch the fire by its throat,
as they feed us lies day after day
hiding our pain behind their laughter.
Sky is angry, wind comes down
launches its bullets, this should be enough,
we are not surrounded yet
we will not be trampled down,
we are still here unrestrained
this is our season too, our time of discontent.
Capitalism is not working
look at the crimes across the globe,
ideological theft for the few, not the many
yet they still make us pay for their greed,
with systematic theft and robbery out of control
don’t go to them crawling back on your knees,
remember anger is our energy too
live with fierce passion, take back what’s yours.

.air. by Sonja Benskin Mesher

layered in air

we dance with glass

 

small souls with small lives

rise

to the challenges

 

she says you know we do not gets what we want

we gets what we get

 

really

 

ours has been much easier than so many others

*listen to the radio

 

they threw them all on the fire

there

air sbm

This Life by Cath Campbell

I could not have imagined this century,
this appalled open mouthed scream of rage
wrapped in piecemeal privilege,

nor that babies would still be starving in Africa,
and war would be so popular,
more so than love or kindness,

nor ever thought women would still shudder
beneath a callous thumb.
I am unimaginative.

The Truth about Syria by Charlie Hill

Assad, the Butcher.

In the latest horrors from Syria, United Nations monitors are investigating a massacre in the hamlet of Qubeir, where some 78 people reportedly were shot, garroted or burned alive. If formally confirmed, it would be the fourth massacre in two weeks. Activists said an assault on the town of Hiffeh that began on Monday included the first use of missiles fired from helicopter gunships since the anti-Assad protests began 16 months ago.

Despite his claims that the violence is the work of “terrorists,” President Bashar al-Assad has a lot to hide. On Thursday, Syrian troops and pro-government supporters barred the monitors from Qubeir, and the monitors were fired upon. The team was finally permitted to enter the hamlet on Friday, and journalists and a spokeswoman for the monitors reported chilling evidence of multiple killings, including congealed blood and scattered body parts. Villagers said militiamen had trucked bodies away.

 

Another bogeyman?

Having taken out Saddam in Iraq and Gaddafi in Libya, US/NATO/Israel moved onto the next bogeyman in the Middle East in 2011, Bashar Assad, president of Syria. However, Wikileaks documents reveal plans afoot to destabilise Syria as far back as 2006.The Project for the New American Century (PNAC), hatched by the Zionist neocon cabal in Washington, had Syria and the Middle East in its sights a decade before.

Assad has been falsely accused of attacking his own people with chemical weapons but like the stories of Kuwaiti babies being hurled from incubators by Iraqi forces or the Libyan army being given Viagra to facilitate rape as part of Gaddafi’s war on his own people, evidence indicates this is untrue. Bashar Assad is not the monster he’s made out to be.

 

One boy was filmed suffocating on the ground, his chest heaving and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Photographs show dead children lined up in rows on the floor or piled in heaps in the back of a vehicle, their clothes ripped from them by rescuers who used hoses to try to wash the chemicals from their bodies. Other images show victims foaming from their mouths or writhing on the ground as they struggle for air. Hours after the attack began, witnesses say, regime warplanes circled back over the area and dropped bombs on a clinic treating survivors.

Kerry: Syria gas attack a moral obscenity

US Secretary of State John Kerry has signalled his country’s intention to act on Syria, describing the use of chemical weapons as a “moral obscenity” and pinning the blame on the Syrian government.

“Let me be clear. The indiscriminate slaughter of civilians, the killing of women and children and innocent bystanders by chemical weapons is a moral obscenity. By any standard, it is inexcusable. And despite the excuses and equivocations that some have manufactured, it is undeniable,” Kerry said.

“The meaning of this attack goes beyond the conflict in Syria itself. And that conflict has already brought so much terrible suffering. This is about the large-scale indiscriminate use of weapons that the civilised world long ago decided must never be used at all, a conviction shared even by countries that agree on little else,” Kerry added.

 

 

 

Syrian rebel groups backed by the U.S. and its allies “have committed serious violations of international humanitarian law, including abductions, torture and summary killings,” according to Amnesty International.

A report by the leading human rights organization details how extremist rebel groups have taken over large parts of major Syrian cities, in which they have created repressive theocratic regimes where critics are violently silenced and where religious and ethnic minority groups fear for their lives.

 

 

THE CASE FOR HUMANITARIAN INTERVENTION

The concept of humanitarian intervention is at its core about protecting people. It rests on the premise that when gross abuses of human rights are taking place, when innocent people are being maimed and killed, then the international community cannot and should not stand idly by. What precisely should be done and by whom is a topic of great importance and debate. But that something should be done to stop such abuses is unquestionable. As Kofi Annan has stated unequivocally “massive and systematic violations of human rights, wherever they take place, should never be allowed to stand.”

As Beate Jahn has put it, the debate around “humanitarian intervention” centres on whether we believe the world is becoming more moral and, therefore, a new kind of “humanitarian” intervention is possible, or whether we think morality is essentially unchanging, but that we need a term to justify intervention in support of a particular political project, in which case labelling it “humanitarian” is inappropriate. She argues that history reveals morality and politics to be mutually constitutive and that “the concept of humanitarian intervention therefore does not describe new policies; instead it serves to hide the political nature of these policies today.”

Has the world hit compassion fatigue for Syria’s refugees?

Empathy reserves on empty

An anti-refugee backlash seems to sweeping the globe, reflected in media coverage and government policy. Adam White asks what has happened to our collective sympathy and concern for the human rights of refugees?

We need new photographs of dead Syrian children. With politicians and sectors of the general public exhibiting a significant reduction in sympathy of late for the plight of incoming refugees, it might be necessary. The last time we all saw a dead Syrian child, in the form of Alan Kurdi’s lifeless body washed up on a Turkish beach, it spearheaded major questions about the UK’s relative lack of support for Syrian refugees. Charity drives were launched, Facebook campaigns were all the rage, and celebrities announced their intentions to open up their homes to those most in need. Then it all seemed to stop.

We need new photographs of dead Syrian children. But here’s a surprise. As it turns out, though you’d be forgiven for not being aware, we already have them. When a boat of refugees sunk off the Turkish coast on January 28, killing all 37 Syrians on board, photographers were able to snap nearly identical images to the ones that shocked the world into (short-lived) action last summer. Like the images of Alan, these were similarly tragic photographs of another young Syrian child, cradled in the arms of a member of the Turkish armed guard.

But unlike Alan, this dead child hasn’t been splashed across the mainstream press. Instead there has been a significant shift in refugee coverage. No longer are refugees being depicted as humans in desperate need of help, nor even as relentless blights on Europe… they’re not being reported on at all.

What is being covered in the British media of late are acts of degrading human indecency: identifying wristbands for refugees in Cardiff, coloured doors in Middlesbrough, neo-Nazi rallies in Dover. Following a week of high-profile stories, it’s easy to stop and ponder: has the absence of an emotional narrative contributed to the strange rise in anti-refugee sentiment in recent weeks? Or did we all just get a bit bored by it all?

 

 

Syria’s war: Who is fighting and why [Updated]

shademw19 hours ago

this is proegada :O the norhe never forget . the USA is the eivel in the waord . may odini sloter you alle cristin skum

D Summerz2 days ago

This is like Metal Gear Solid, but in real life..

Vitamin C Kills Implanted Alien Hybrid Embryos1 day ago

this video is pure jewry

Reggie Lourm1 day ago

What the TRUTH and what is fake,?

 

Should you let your kids watch the news?

Child abuse, drownings, scary clowns. The kind of bad news stories that adults are exposed to every day but what about children and the way they process these stories? Sean O’Rourke asks if we should protect them from hearing bad news?

We have to offer some context. We have to explain as best we can what that’s about, why that’s happening because at some level we need to understand – What is it that they know? What sense are they already making about it? So you might ask them some follow up questions about what it is they’ve seen.”

After you’ve found out their thoughts and shared your own explanation of the facts. It can be helpful to offer some reassurance to your kids in a practical and honest way…Instead of denying the possibility of bad things happening it is better to assure your children that it’s very unlikely that anything will happen to them as the level of risk and danger is very low.

 

Footage shows injured children so traumatised they have stopped crying

 

According to the United Nations, at least 2,700 children were among 8,000 evacuees allowed to leave the war-torn Syrian city in recent days.

But many more remain trapped in the remaining rebel-held areas.

In video footage, aired by Channel 4 News, one toddler, called Aya, sits on a stretcher in Aleppo’s last hospital, her face covered in dust and dried blood.

As chaos engulfs the room around her, the toddler doesn’t cry.

Assad, the Butcher.

Journalists and a spokeswoman for the monitors reported chilling evidence of multiple killings, including congealed blood and scattered body parts. Villagers said militiamen had trucked bodies away.

 

 

Another bogeyman?

Like the stories of Kuwaiti babies being hurled from incubators by Iraqi forces, evidence indicates this is untrue. Bashar Assad is not the monster he’s made out to be.

 

 

One boy was filmed suffocating on the ground, his chest heaving and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Other images show victims foaming from their mouths or writhing on the ground as they struggle for air.

 

 

Kerry: Syria gas attack a moral obscenity

“Let me be clear. The indiscriminate slaughter of civilians, the killing of women and children and innocent bystanders by chemical weapons is a moral obscenity. By any standard, it is inexcusable. This is about the large-scale indiscriminate use of weapons that the civilised world long ago decided must never be used at all, a conviction shared even by countries that agree on little else,” Kerry added.

 

 

Syrian rebel groups backed by the U.S. and its allies “have committed serious violations of international humanitarian law, including abductions, torture and summary killings,” according to Amnesty International.

 

 

THE CASE FOR HUMANITARIAN INTERVENTION

The concept of humanitarian intervention is at its core about protecting people. As Kofi Annan has stated unequivocally “massive and systematic violations of human rights, wherever they take place, should never be allowed to stand.”

 

The debate around “humanitarian intervention” centres on whether we believe the world is becoming more moral and a new kind of “humanitarian” intervention is possible. She argues that history reveals morality and politics to be mutually constitutive and that “the concept of humanitarian intervention therefore does not describe new policies; instead it serves to hide the political nature of these policies today.”

 

Has the world hit compassion fatigue for Syria’s refugees?

Empathy reserves on empty

We need new photographs of dead Syrian children. The last time we all saw a dead Syrian child, in the form of Alan Kurdi’s lifeless body washed up on a Turkish beach, charity drives were launched, Facebook campaigns were all the rage, and celebrities announced their intentions to open up their homes to those most in need. Then it all seemed to stop.

When a boat of refugees sunk off the Turkish coast, there were similarly tragic photographs of another young Syrian child, cradled in the arms of a member of the Turkish armed guard.

But unlike Alan, this dead child hasn’t been splashed across the mainstream press. No longer are refugees being depicted as humans in desperate need of help, nor even as relentless blights on Europe… they’re not being reported on at all.

Did we all just get a bit bored by it all?

 

 

This is like Metal Gear Solid, but in real life.

This video is pure Jewry

What is the TRUTH and what is fake?

 

Should you let your kids watch the news?

Child abuse, drownings, scary clowns. Atrocities in Libya. What about children and the way they process these stories? What is it that they know? What sense are they already making about it? Instead of denying the possibility of bad things happening it is better to assure your children that it’s very unlikely that anything will happen to them, as the level of risk and danger is very low.

Footage shows injured children so traumatised they have stopped crying

 

In video footage, one toddler sits on a stretcher in Aleppo’s last hospital, her face covered in dust and dried blood.

As chaos engulfs the room around her, the toddler doesn’t even cry.

 

 

Assad, the Butcher.

 

Scattered body parts;

 

morally obscene; a boy

like a fish out of water.

 

(But is this TRUE or is it fake?

Is he instead a bogeyman? (pure Jewry; extremist rebels)

Not the monster he’s made out to be?)

 

 

We should intervene of course,

except interventions are Political

and our empathy reserves are empty

(Ha! Real life Action-Adventure Stealth);

 

Besides. What are we to think or do,

how can we make anything

of a toddler who doesn’t cry.

 

Charlie Hill is a critically acclaimed novelist and short story writer. He has published a handful of poems in Under the RadarProle, Ink, Sweat and Tears and I am not a silent poet.

Yes Ministers by Colin Dardis

The newly appointed Minister for Loneliness will be given an office with no windows at the end of a long corridor.

The Minister for Apathy will not bother going to work tomorrow.

The Minister for Feeling Peckish has left crumbs on the head of her esteemed colleague while snacking in the back benches.

The Minister for Curiosity has said he is looking into this.

The Minister for Itchiness has scratched her previously announced policy considering it “too rash”.

The Minister for Binge Watching has said to stay tuned for further updates.

The Minister for Prostration will be announced tomorrow.

The Minister of Anticipation is looking forward to the announcement of the Minister for Procrastination.

The Minister for Shyness has cancelled all future public appearances.

The Minister for Uneasiness has a bad feeling about all these new ministers.

The Minister for Embarrassment has had their social media accounts hacked.

The Minister for Schadenfreude enjoys this.

The Minister for Austerity has been axed due to cutbacks.

The Minister for Plain English will hereby be known as The Minister for Exactitude, Economy and Elucidation in the Application of the Written and Spoken Word.

The Minister for Epiphanies has suddenly realised the ineffectiveness of this Government.

The Minister of Ministers has announced an end to the appointing of new ministers.

 

Colin Dardis is one of Eyewear Publishing’s Best New British and Irish Poets 2016, and recently an ACES ’15-16 recipient from Arts Council of Northern Ireland. His work has been published widely throughout Ireland, the UK and USA. A collection with Eyewear, the x of y, is forthcoming in 2018. Colin also co-runs Poetry NI and is the online editor for Lagan Press. www.colindardispoet.co.uk

A close is a close is a close by Kevin Reid

after Gertrude Stein

tenement block.
tenement block.
tenement block.
tenement block.
tenement block.
tenement block.
them men in the block
them men in the block.
block.
block.
block
bloke.
you.
you only.
you only ten.
you only ten.
what a shame.
what a shame
what a shame hen.
what a poor shame hen.
blame him blame him blame him blame him.
him.
him.
him.
egg.
egg.
egg.
egg on.
egg on.
egg on his chin.
what a pair.
what a pair.
what a pair pair.
place.
place of.
place of nuts nuts.
old place.
what a place what a place what a place to be.
old face.
what a face what a face what a face is he.
come on come on come on come.
more more more more more.
more close.
more close.
too close.
too close.
too close.
but.
but.
but.
but.
but.
but.
close is a close is a close is a close.
a blow is undelighted.

 

close (n): The entry to a tenement house, the open passage-way giving access to the common stairs and the floors above.

 

Kevin Reid lives between Scotland and other lands. His work can be read in various journals such as, Ink Sweat and Tears, The Interpreter’s House, Under The Radar, Seagate III, Scotia Extremis, Domestic Cherry, And Other Poems. A mini pamphlet, Burdlife (Tapsalteerie), was published in 2017.  He’s the editor of Nutshells and Nuggets, a blogzine for short poems.