at the mirror above the wash basin
i pause at my reflection

in spectacles and muffler
is a face familiar

where have i seen him, where?

i remember it was beamed on tv, newspaper
made headlines for some days
before on an early dawn

he was quietly snuffed out.

from the mirror
i make a hasty retreat

so closely resembles my face

with that terrorist!

back on the writing table

i ponder

if the resemblance
goes beyond the face!

in the pleasure of discovering
words rhymes rhythms
i'm a gluttonous poet.

day and night
bite of my growing appetite
makes me sink low

i don't notice
broken pieces
shattered peaces
around me

i breathe in writing
eat and drink
poetry

crazed obsessed stressed
my poetry
like any other debauchery
is an escape ride
someplace to hide

i'm a poet
subservient
to the pleasures of words rhymes rhythms.

On my way
to the shop
across the road
down the concrete stairs

of the flats
I saw Ingrid
sitting on a step
a floor down

from mine
what you
doing here?
I asked

I dropped
a pink of milk
on the way back
from the shop

and now
my dad'll **** me
I daren't go home
I looked at her

sitting there
old grey dress
matty hair
well you can't

sit here all day
your mum
will wonder
where you are

she looked at me
wide eyed
I know
but I can't

go home
until he's gone
to work or I’m for it
how long ago

did you drop it?
15 minutes or so
down by the *****
I thought

of the broken glass
and messy milk
wait here
I’ll talk

with my mum
so I went back
upstairs to our flat
and spoke to Mum

and she gave me
an extra bit of money
to get another
bottle of milk

so I went down
the stairs
and said
come on

let's get
another bottle
how?
she asked

my mum
gave me
some money
to get another

but be careful
this time
she smiled
her goofy smile

and we went down
the stairs and out
through the Square
and down the *****

to the shop
passed
the broken bottle
and spilt milk

and the morning sun
was coming over
the factory
beside the fresh fish shop

and we got
my mother's shopping
and another pint
and never spilt a drop.

once a collage
hung on a wide white wall  
with monochrome photos of  
all creatures great and small  

Dali juxtaposed with Doris Day,
LBJ atop JFK, and Joe DiMaggio,
grinning Frankenstein and frowning
Frank Sinatra, not far below

Hemingway, Groucho Marx, Marlon Brando  
occupying three of four corners, the bottom right
a curious cat, in stretched repose

dead center, a cracked crucifix
and four Beatles all, Paul the biggest
with the cross crowning his frame    

a Corvette,
and Stalin in his tomb  
were also given ample room,
on this black and white piece of art  
as were *******, with cap,
Jimi Hendrix with axe  

another three score
and a couple more, completed
this cacophony of sight, but absent
were J. Bieber, Beyonce, any of the Simpsons
of Fox fame, revealing the artist of this gray masterpiece  
was blissfully blind to cyber sacrilege,
Steve Job’s toys, and the lost soul
of Lindsey Lohan

He was just a boy
Yes, just 16 years of age
But he wanted to follow the colors
Just to prove that he was brave
But he was just a man child
A rifle in his hand
Yes the rifle gave him manhood
But the mind was still a childs
In Flanders field he learned the truth
Of the transition to a man not youth
But the mind was left behind
Wounded by a shell by enemy fire
And all around him men did die
His courage was spent and gone
Scared, in pain
His shell shocked scrambled brain
He wandered from the field
In tears, in fear he cried out for his mum
Battered in body, battered in mind
The boy could take no more
Three days later they found him
Hiding in a farm
At rifle point they took him
With biting ropes around his arms
Poperinge was the place the courts martial
Then took place
The boy just stood there silent
Shaking, ashen faced
The fateful words were spoken
All cowards have to die
'Thus before the firing squad
You must say your last goodbye
And so on that fateful morning
In the stable yard
The young boy in tears was tied
To the post by previous bullets scared
They pinned a white card upon his breast
For the firing squad to see
The command to fire was given
And a sixteen year old boy
Met his final destiny