A War of Words

A War of Words

by David R J Sealey

 

A grey day when it shouldn’t be,

global eyes focussed on coming together

to compete in coliseums of ice

obscuring a slow-drifting fog of war,

and the cheering crowds conceal

an inevitable whisper in the wind

that nobody wants to hear,

but it comes.

 

Temperatures drop several degrees

in the face of global warming,

a warning shot fired in the former USSR,

ignites a flaming tornado of words.

A media shitstorm whips up the heat

to an unbearable degree, papers

are signed, cameras pointed at the pen

obscure the trigger finger.

 

A war of words breaks out,

an intercontinental ballistic first strike

launched from the mouths of the ignorant,

oblivious to our voices, deafened

by the ringing of the counter-strike,

justified by those that sell stories

in the interest of flogging rags that

tear open wounds and won’t bind them.

 

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The Strait of Kerch

The Strait of Kerch

 

“There’s been a crime here!”

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                   “Cry me a river…”

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Galacticosm

Galacticosm

By David R J Sealey

 

Falling

an endless chasm yawns below me,

forming

a bright yellow platform draws me in,

incorporating

into a geared mechanism, a chain

climbing

to an emerald island suspended in the sky.

 

Onwards

hop down onto floating stone blocks

defying

the pull, drags me on to a gold coin

shining

glimmers and vanishes in my wake,

tumbling

into a star shaped halo, and away.

 

Landing

both feet first through fungal skull,

standing

in a corpse that disappears and crudely

dancing,

crushing sentient beings underfoot and

laughing

before jumping up and away, off the wall.

 

Leaping

out of a ragged hole above the clouds,

chancing

that they may hold my weight then

running

above the horizon; a ship appears,

pirates

of the blue skies making haste my way.

 

Firing

cannonballs tear towards me with a grin

finally

I find a flower that fans flames at my whim

timing

my jump and catching, I slide down the mast

unleashing

terrible balls that burn through decking boards.

 

Screaming

the great ship tumbles towards the ground

seeming

to freeze as I catch sight of a rooftop and leap

scheming

I slide down a green drainpipe, dropping through the

ceiling

into the boudoir of a scholarly mushroom.

 

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