Sunday, November 26, 2017

There's no ark this time

here I stand
defeated by the hate
by the fear

bones broken
by the beast

here I stand
waiting patiently
for the flood
like all the other
sacred sinners

there’s Jesus

beneath the waves

© Harry Rout 2017

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Our heart of darkness

in the name
of progress
we march
into the future
on the backs
of unknown slaves
while we shut
our eyes
so as not
to disturb this
fragile economy

but we know
the truth…

we see them
clinging desperately
to the walls
of our hungry
shopping malls
while we buy
and sell
the products
of their labour

© Harry Rout 2017

Monday, November 13, 2017

What’s happened to all the children? (For the kids of Yemen)

the soul of God
a million unknown
decomposing bones
lay hidden
by the weight
of time

little boys
little girls
dead and damned

their fragile hearts
had no hope
in this world
of man

in heaven
no one hears
them cry

© Harry Rout 2017

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

You know you’re write (Artists are the antennae of the species – Ezra Pound)

refusing to hear
the poet
they threatened him
with crucifixion
and even worse

a subtle
lack of interest

they tore out
his twisted tongue
and took away
his angry pen

leaving him
with only silence

they laughed
loudly at the poet
as he stood
naked and wordless

they held
their hammer high
as he raised
his middle finger
and smiled defiantly

while the first nail
pierced his skin

© Harry Rout 2017