The Price of Nothing.

The poorest hearts bleed-

Nights

Sleepless and fitful

Worrying

Wondering

What will become

Of the children

In Gaza

Tonight.

Buried under rubble

Their new born cries

Stifled

By the dust

And insipid fury

Of an army

They’ll never

Grow up

To look in the eye.

The cowardice

Of men

Made righteous by

Lies and propaganda

The holy land

A mass grave of bare footed

Sanctimony.

A burial ground

Of greed and empire

Playing on the

Frail human need

For a purpose.

To be right.

Above all

To be right.

Amen.

Untouched by mortar

And drone fire

The rich sleep soundly.

Whilst their minion’s sacrifice

Their souls

In the name of a flag

That did nothing for them

But take life

And bleed

Bleed

Bleed

Dry.

The vestiges of humanity

They had left.

We line the streets in protest.

Pretend we have a say,

they line their pockets with the profits

of war and devastation.

Playing golf with a severed head.

A girl learns hunger

before numbers add to four.

A boy learns fear

before his name

Is used against him.

Money sups sun-drenched wine

grown on vines

They never planted.

Cultivated by men

Whose names

They cannot pronounce.

Fish beg for air

They patent oxygen.

We bury our dead.

They buy the moon.

And call it their own.

With rockets

They never built –

With materials

They never dug.

And still—

We are told

To aspire

To the American dream.

Where capitalists

Wank off into their

Gold plated coffee cups -

Shoving their penises of power in the mouths

Of pigs.

They never reared.

Because they can.

Human life is a penny toss –

At the annual Met Gala.

Still,

I’d rather choke on pennies

Than bathe in bitcoin.

I’d rather know the face of my friends

Carrying the same weight –

Than wonder why the fuck they are there.

Kissing my arse –

Into war crimes

I don’t understand.

Paranoid about their intent

My ego bulging

With sycophants for blood.

I’d rather die face down in the mud -

Than in the ivory tower

Of delusion and cruelty

You have all become.

Either way.

We’re all dead anyway.

Was it worth it?

The lives you

Annihilated

For power and face?

Sleep tight

The night

Is yours.

Alone.