Ruth was concerned. Spitfire recon photos were the problem. Not the quality but something else. The target, it was wrong. Its street plan was different. Buildings, or what were once buildings, were different. What was wrong? Ruth thought. Do what thy will be the whole of the law. Do it right or it’s a **** up! What have our boys done?
She called her superior officer over. Quietly Ruth raised her concern and he looked closely through the stereoscopic eye glass at the post bombing pic.
“Strewth! You’re right. A right **** up. They hit the wrong ****** town. It’s not Munich. This is bad.
Ruth glanced up with wide intelligent questioning eyes. She looked very pretty in her WAAF uniform, with hair tied back and young features.
“As you sow, so shall you reap,” muttered her officer. Did it matter where the enemy was hit? As long as we bombed them. Our revenge for Coventry, London and a score more. Our Lancasters were pulverizing Germany. Bomber Harris had unleashed his whirlwind, silencing the Luftwaffe’s wind with extreme violence.
An urgent investigation needed to be carried out. It was the wrong target. A new raid would be needed...

They are the destroyers,
They have come through air,
Burning our streets and
spreading out despair,

With their stolen voices,
They have joined the laugh,
Burning through the corpses,
The righteous attack.

We are fallen warriors,
bodies rot in dirt,
We are eyes of ravens,
The blood of the earth,

With a rusty weapon,
We will spread the word,
The swords of our forefathers
are not of this world.

The cloud will spread,
The sky is dead,
Remains are bared,
The sky dies scared.

No mercy!
No freedom!
No mercy!

Ashes all around.
The bombs were blasting on the ground.
These city lights dying.
The airplanes in the sky.
Time stood still for a moment.
So you thought you could escape.
So you thought would run
And try to hide.
In the darkness of the night when the moon was bright and the light of dawn was breaking through, did the city collapse.
In the end the only one left was death.
All the faces we passed and all the smiles we shared are blowing around stupidly in the wind.
Heaven only knows
What golden light would peirce the clouds.
Reaching out to the sun
To the above.
We are all just fragmented space colliding amongst each other.

Can you see the sky
Where the birds fly
Blue as the sea
Please tell me you can see

Can you feel the air
Is the temperture fair
Moves with a howl
Ask yourself if it was a growl

Can you hear the bomb
Exploding after the calm
People running and screaming
As you're on the ground bleeding

ONE LAST TIME

We bring the cup back home
for those

who will never
come home.

"We played for the people who had died!"
Pogba avows.

An absence in the heart.

The memory of her laugh.

Her smile
in a photograph.

She, so much
there but not there.

The unbearable presence
of loss.

From a pop concert
to a football final

Death walks
amongst our ordinary lives.

"MANCHESTERMANCHESTERMANCHESTER!"
the crowd chants
"WE'ILL NEVER DIE!"

Here even in the kick of a ball
the defiant gesture.

We bring the cup back home
for those

who will never
come home.

He intimately coaxed the bomb like a lascivious lover
Passionate for death-
Carefully balancing out the ingredients,
Fixing the charge,
His soft-palmed hands caressing each part,
Beneath his unsettling gaze.

In paradise he’d spend his eternity-
Having killed his way towards god.

The crowds gathered in the boulevard
Arm in arm, laughing, relaxed.
He drove past them noting their joy-
Loathing their happiness,
An offence against his desire for death.
Turning his car sharply around
He slowly drove past them again.

In that brief moment, the wind
Gently rocking, his thumb pressed down.

The bomb blew, shredding the air,
Grinding his grinning soul into dust.
The blast ripped screams from each chest:
A world suddenly full of unbearable pain,
Blood crawling along the pavement,
Limbs in the gutter, leaking tears.

His road to heaven cost a hundred lives-
Cracked bodies, fragmented souls-
The squalid suffering of children.
Rivers of milk and honey
Thickened with blood.