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Rob Kingston Nov 2015
into the house ran the cat
it's feet full of what he'd just shat
the horror on my face
smell difficult to embrace
my toe to its rear left a big splat
Rob Kingston Nov 2015
fresh out of winners
the empty horsechesnut tree
Rob Kingston Nov 2015
into the night we both walked
under the moonlight we smooched and talked
you wore that nice dress
always dressing to impress
I wore that smile as if lightning had forked
Rob Kingston Nov 2015
They say their is calm now,
smells of spent munitions subsiding.
Lying around and ferried under a different blue the viewers and listeners, the diners and walkers.
One witness speaks of the bodies so high his wife could not climb over,
another of explosions a block away.
Carnage the reporter says as a man mentions the sight of men in black entering a music hall with Kalashnikov rifles, him gifted a choice not to enter.
The news speaks of pierced body parts, an arm, a leg, a shoulder, so many dead, 120 the number that exist no more, rising, many many more the casualties of this next step in a new world war.
Flashes and bangs, whistles and booms, sirens scream as forces reign down.
Tears, shock, the misery on faces, much sadness heaped on a peace seeking nation.
We now know some say why they chose Paris, some claim it is the fault of the west.
Others of ignorance by intelligent beings that choose violence instead,of democracy, though democracy to them has lost its edge to a world full of capitalist cronies who themselves choose numbers over humanity, so's said.
We are left to pick up pieces of what is left behind, we will grow stronger in the face of adversity.
Hoping one day that the so called wise people are wise, seeing solutions instead of this continuous cycle of violence and death.
Nos pensées vont à tous ceux qui sont touchés, nous montrons la solidarité avec le peuple français et à leurs invités.
Rob Kingston Nov 2015
Impressionism
Etching patterns in the sky
A swath of starlings
Rob Kingston Nov 2015
The concerns on the faces I remember.
When things got out of hand in November.
We lit up the sky.
As the fireworks shot high.
Leaving us dancing with there embers.

(c) Robert kingston 9.11.15
Rob Kingston Nov 2015
A tear of reflection creeps slowly down my face and the hairs on my neck lift to thoughts of what went before.

My mind having travelled with a poppy proudly posted on my lapel and you stood there proud though not being present for a long time.

I have walked in your footsteps,
seen the baron lands, the bunkers, the trenches, the guns, the cannons, the tanks and the simple cloth that you wore and the medals that would shine on your chest.

I have read and listened to the stories and poems describing great valour and misery and loss, watched footage of black and white films and talked about the horses, pigeons and dogs.

We can only reflect and assume that we understand what you went through, but in truth we never can know.

so as we embark upon another  day of remembrance I will reflect on the great that you did and quietly say thank you to all those lost in a prayer.

(c) Robert kingston 8.11.15
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