I don't understand why it's different for you.
Why it's different for you,
a people who have suffered,
a people who are Jew.  
To **** in your name,
a child who's turned blue.
In the dust from the home that once they held proud,
on land that you stole and then that you blew
to bits that are small
now smothered in blue
with sharp shrapnel that you
spread in the name of the few.

Why is it different?
Why, for the child who walked slowly through,
through the gates from the train,
on a ticket you knew
was only ever one way.
Did the mothers at Treblinka
deserve to go through,
the gates or the hurt
to watch their child torn
from a heart where they grew
to gasp a long breath
a gassed breath to the last,
smothered to blue.

Has nothing been learned by you, who cry true
from the past and the hurt, by
a people who are Jew.
The few who survived and echoed the cry,
a cry undisturbed by the thousands who died
a crime of our times, denied by the few,

I don't understand why it's different for you.
Why it's different for you,
a people who are Jew.  
In Gaza or Auschwitz,
the cry of a child
echoes eerily the same.
whether dying from gas
or bombs that you blame
on Hamas or God
the result is the same
the mother's heart ripped
and torn in two.

I don't understand why it's different for you.
To ****  the thousands
to get at the few.
I wonder if those who died for being Jew
would welcome the children of Gaza
the children who knew
they'd died just like them,
innocent and blue.

the flat earthed dwellers
swayed, tipping in nervous glance
the end credits rolled.

A silent trap ensnared my life,
my head felt pulverised,
a stolen voice and lifeless limbs,
left me perplexed and paralysed.

I sat in frightened endless wait
confused and petrified.
I could not shout nor dial
for help
I simply lay and cried.

I woke, still broke, to a familiar
call,
with sense and rhyme inverted.
No indicators flashed this change,
life's path strangely diverted.

But this was not a yellow wood,
For I never had a choice.
If I had, I'd have called their names,
rather than mouth in silent voice.

They looked at me confused and shocked,
a mother disconnected.
No thoughts, could escape this shell
with mind still unaffected.

Shuttled there in flashing blue
hospitalised intervention,
with medicated urgency,
testing a failing comprehension.

But I'd lain long in darkened time,
and missed that magic hour,
the minutes gone forever,
tick-tocked in rescinded valor.

My symmetry from right to left,
had left muscle withered fading.
I felt their gentle massaged touch
too late for caressed salvation.

I've seen their hurt at losing me
or that part of me that mattered.
My life has been frozen still,
but theirs has sadly shattered

I lie here, long night and drawn out day,
moving, unfortunately assisted,
my internal struggle to communicate
leaves doubts I once existed.

The years this stroke has stolen
and drip-dried a mother's tear,
has wounded deeply, this mortal coil,
filled my tomorrows with shades of fear.

A silent trap ensnared my life,
no one could interfere,
but when you visit, please talk to me,
lest you forget, I'm still in here.

In darkened dream, my walk was halted,
confronted by a tree,
It stood upright, a branch outstretched
and blocked the path on me.

In circumventing sideways dance
I edged in grass quite slow,
but a craggy root handcuffed me,
and would not let me go.

I stood in shocked drawn silent gaze,
unsure of where to turn,
This tree had pulled me tighter now,
it fought my urge to run.

But then it spoke in ancient voice,
in tones of guttural flow.
Dark words in wood translation,
spoke of a poisoned stream below.

The leaf on every branch now shivered,
in worried recounted tale,
as it described through words so clear
what caused its bark to fail.

A darkened tale of toxic waste,
a legacy untold.
of man's destructive story,
where greed and fear unfold.

Water table now unset
In (fractured gas) halation.
Land is sold and cracked
in tempted cash flirtation

War for oil in scarlet lands,
where majors lived at base.
The youth in pointless sacrifice,
to save the political face.

Where poverty prevailed amid
abundant arable nations.
and the silent cries of children
skewed charitable donations.

Air of grey, fermented
with pollen soft pollution.
Chokes of spluttered ash,
cast doubt on evolution

This tale of woe recounted
by nature's mother-tree
with roots now losing hold
while balanced grip on me.

Swaying branch quite dangerously
in forgotten leafy youth.
this once majestic elder falls,
unburdened by this truth.

It died in pain where it had grown
drowned slow in poisoned stream.
a fading track on reddened skin
where its handcuffed branch had been.

I straightened up and stumbled on
relieved it had let me go.
My eyes in shock, slowly adjusted
To wood in flat plateau.

I cast my eyes in horizoned view
not believing what I'd seen.
The wood in matchsticked pattern
where once proud kings had been.


The landscape now lay barren,
with wood strewn all around.
The stench of rot erupted
from muddy blackened ground.

I wandered off to tell the tale,
of being confronted by this tree,
unsure of what just happened
or why it had chosen me.

I walked for miles in desolate,
through air starved atmosphere.
but met no one along this road,
a winding ***-holed frontier.

I walked until I finally woke.
in spluttered inhalation.
Confused, I feared this reality,
of earth's final damnation.

In darkened dream, my walk was halted,
confronted by a tree,
Awoke, its tale will linger,
forever haunting me

In the short ten minutes I'd spent with you,
wrapped in swaddle of cotton blue,
We sat in awe and silent gaze,
and shared one breath through sun lit rays.

We studied a face in contoured flow,
in elbowed cradle and rocking slow,
and recognised a mother's face
through eyes of close and reflected grace.

In mirror'd line drawn of nurtured genes
A wish of three, and genie'd dreams.
You're everything a family needs
in life of eternal love exceeds.

But we wait forlorn for silent cries,
only sadly met with long goodbyes.
A boy perfect, with skin lukewarm
We part on lips of kiss stillborn.

Been drunk twice today, once
in the haze of dawn in slumbered pile, again
before night's drape had drawn a while, while
in-between,  through sober gaze, I wished
for clouds that went clockwise by.

Have spun the empty bottle dry, in rounds
with friends who faked a smile, but once
the bell had closed that night, and rung
in hollowed echoed sigh, I stared
at lonely stars trail by.

Then circled twice, like the fluttered moth, part
blinded by the swinging light.  In thought
a bulb in chorded flight, swayed
side to side from left to right, whilst I
rambled on in shadowed rhyme,

When the bell alarmed my wake, I woke
just once, then dreamt the dream, when
time passed slow, and I lay still in grassy fields,
and watched the clouds go clockwise by.