1914 – A Huge Fraction

He still felt deafened by the terrible sound
From the huge field guns that both sides had
Been firing hour after hour for four days. You
Could be scared to death just from the noise.

An eighth didn’t seem like much
Two sixteenths
Four thirty-seconds
Eight sixty-fourths
Sixteen one hundred and twenty-eighths.

Following his recent promotion to Colonel
He was sitting in his new office at his new desk
Hesitating to put his pen to paper
Resisting the inevitable sorrow to come.

He was writing down the numbers – thinking
Thirty two two hundred and fifty-sixths
Sixty four five hundred and twelfths.
Now the numbers looked much bigger.
When he reached
Five hundred and twelve as a
fraction of four thousand and ninety-six
He stopped.

The number now seemed insurmountable
Yet it was still that small fraction.
But he now had to write to that number
Of wives, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters
And tell them that their boy would
Never again walk through their front door.

An eighth is so much more than just a fraction.

©Joe Wilson – 1914 A huge fraction…2014

One of a group of poems recognising the centenary of WW1

A Poor Woman

Angelic voices called to her
She faltered at beauty’s sound
She’d thought that she was doing well
Surprised that now she had been found.

The monsoon rains had brought her down
A fever struck so deep
Her strength gave out eventually
Her will began to seep.

She’d worked out in the harshest place
She’d dug and picked and sown
On land that others made profit from
The land was not her own.

She’d even had a child once there
And then just carried on
The baby wrapped up on her back
Her plaintiff cry so wan.

But now the time had come for her
Worn out at forty two
Amidst the constant poverty
Her death was nothing new.

They buried her and carried on
No tears upon their face
The crops still needed planting
Her daughter filled her place.

©Joe Wilson – A poor woman 2014

Death by Violence

Some people just don’t bloody care
They see injustice with ghoulish stare
But being beaten about the head
Lying bloodied and left for dead
Can leave you a cynic of humankind
Of passers-by whose gaze is blind.

Am I not human like you lot
As I lie here midst blood and snot
Do you not care a damn for me
This isn’t how it used to be.

But no help comes, I’m left instead
I’ve drawn last breath – and now I’m dead.

©Joe Wilson – Death by Violence…2014

Paranoia – the covert kind

I never heard a single thing
I just dropped to the ground
The bullet came from a thousand yards
And it never made a sound.

But the devil missed and didn’t know
I’d made it look so good
I’d fallen very carefully
And burst the bags of blood.

The killer left immediately
With presumption of a kill
And I’ll lie still as if I’m dead
I’ll wait patiently – until.

The warning came by text last night
As always from an unknown source
So very, very carefully
I’d slightly changed my course.

The bullet would have hit me
Of that I have no doubt
It’s only due to the warning
That I’m alive to sort it out.

Who would want to kill me?
Who would want me dead?
Who will find that they will die
By my gun-hand instead?

Well of course I know who did it
He does the same as me
But he works for a different master
Which makes him – the enemy.

Our covert life, the secrecy
Seemed to satisfy a goal
But after all the years of death
You realise the toll.

No longer can I trust the team
That sends me out to kill
Their desperate need to dominate
The arrests, the rumour mill.
———-

I’m down below the radar now
I’ll watch and wait, and then
When all the parts fall into place
I’ll remove at least two men.

The first has tried to kill me
Of course, I’m killing him
The second is my villainous boss
Who I found connived with him.

This sounds like paranoia
But just you try it for a while
When you kill people for a living
It rare you’ll want to smile.
———-

I’m moving on again now
Of me you’ll find no trace
You’ll come and look but never find
And you’ve never seen my face.

©JRW2014

Violence begets violence!

It is my firm belief that no woman sets out to purposely harm her child, nor any other for that matter. To that I would also add that I don’t believe that men, per se, set out to harm children either. Some men however, are given to violence. They encounter it in their lives as they grow up, and then later they seek it out as others seek out drugs. It spills over into relationships with them being violent to their partners, and then also to any children in the relationship, often the partner’s children. Such men are neither use nor ornament.

In the forty one years that we’ve been married I have never felt even the tiniest desire to hurt my wife, she is as precious to me now as the day I first saw her sitting at the parlour table in our house, she was my sister’s school-friend. Neither of us ever raised a hand in violence towards either of our children. Such a thought is so abhorrent to me that I feel quite sick just writing it. The natural and normal consequence of the loving and totally non-violent environment in which we raised them is that both of our children have moved into happy and fulfilling relationships of their own where nobody within their family groups will encounter violence either. This is as it should be and hopefully remains the norm for relationships everywhere.

There has however, been a seemingly endless number of reports recently, concerning women and their partners killing young children in this country. It appears to be happening more often than ever, though of course that can simply be that such things are better reported these days. In a recent case where both the mother and the partner (not the father), were sent to prison for starving and beating a poor child to death, it is shocking that even teachers and neighbours and social care workers never saw what was going on. The poor little fellow was four years old. In another case a little girl was killed and then just left wrapped up on a bed for almost two years, two years! What causes a society to create such vicious people? How can someone care so little for another human being, and one so small? Recently a man was sent to prison for stabbing an eighty-five year old man to death who was just walking home from his prayers, the murderer also let off several bombs in which luckily no one was injured. An eighty year old lady was viciously raped and beaten badly before being left for dead. A few months later she did indeed die. Her killer is now in prison. It goes on and on. It will never stop. It escalates into gang fights, turf wars, civil wars, and of course, finally, world wars.

There are those who say it is just human nature dating back to ‘man the hunter’. I say this is wrong. It is the twenty-first century and civilisation should have reached a point by now where differences could be settled without this natural inclination towards a violent solution. Just imagine being able to go to anywhere in the world without the fear that you could land in the middle of a war zone. Imagine how much happier we would all be if we could just talk to each other as equals, which lets face it, is what we all are.

I said at the beginning that I didn’t believe that any woman would purposely set out to harm her, or any other person’s child. I do firmly believe that. I think generally that when they do it is after the influence of violent men. It is violent men who are at the root of so much pain in the world, and they come in many guises. Some are just out and out bad, others find it’s a path where they can be more easily successful than any other way. Some manage to hide their violent nature and suddenly pop up as leaders of men, or as dictators – one thing they all have in common though is the leaning towards violence as a solution.

That is the real eternal question…how can we stop killing each other?

©JRW2014

War and Death and Greed

War is a cash-cow, there will always be war
– and people will die in the bloodlust and gore
But those who decide on such things never go
– to the battlefront, armed, and frightened of foe
For they’re in their offices making decisions
– as the blades cut the air and men die from incisions.

War is foolish and madness, obscene and absurd
– differences need solving not by bullets, but with words
Sitting round the table for as long as it takes
– and negotiating wisely, no foolish mistakes
But as long as some profit from other people’s death
– they’ll make more blooded money till their own dying breath.

Can we afford to continue to fight in this battle
– racing to slaughter each other like cattle
We cannot keep falling out with our neighbours
– death can’t be the only reward for our labours
Man seems to have battled for two thousand years
– and innocent lives get drowned in the tears.

Stop now…stop now, before it’s too late
– destroying each other leaves the planet to fate
The hatred that spreads through the ill chosen word
– we need to address this, surely peace is preferred
The world needs to stop fighting, we have to do better
– to put an end for the need for the widow’s sad letter.

©JRW2014