Reversing views on refugees

Turned upside down this poem tells a different story.

REFUGEES

They have no need of our help
So do not tell me
These haggard faces could belong to you or me
Should life have dealt a different hand
We need to see them for who they really are
Chancers and scroungers
Layabouts and loungers
With bombs up their sleeves
Cut-throats and thieves
They are not
Welcome here
We should make them
Go back to where they came from
They cannot
Share our food
Share our homes
Share our countries
Instead let us
Build a wall to keep them out
It is not okay to say
These are people just like us
A place should only belong to those who are born there
Do not be so stupid to think that
The world can be looked at another way

(now read from bottom to top)

https://brianbilston.com/2016/03/23/refugees/

A fleeting use in endless time

It’s not so much on inspiration.

More like repeat deliberation.
Ideas relentless bounce around
until they form some common ground
and coalesce into a ditty,
sometimes sad and sometimes witty.

The stuff it swirls around my head
at dawn and daytime and the dead
of night it comes and ebbs and flows

then out my fingertips it goes.

We cannot claim origination,

as it’s been used through generations.
Familiar prose has long been caught
a thousand years a million thoughts
so nothing can be new today,
the same old words, a different play.

Is it new this exclamation

or some weird regurgitation?
Where do these thoughts come from and go?
Floating free like radio?
Or stored within the many heads
entombed forever in the dead?

The swirling thoughts inside my head
don’t come from nowhere, do the dead
domehow pass on their ancient muse
do I can temporary use
a borrowed phrase, a lended rhyme?
A fleeting use in endless time…

Sunday poetry

As some of you have shown a bit of interest in somg and verse I thought there might be some interest in some regular musing. I’ve dabble quite a bit in the art of words. The previous post Large Magellanic Cloud last night reminded me.

It more more than reminded me, the Flying Fish verse led me to something else I’d written that has never before emerged from my silicon silo. I’d forgotten about it and it’s still a bit rough, but I’ve rearranged it a little here:

This began life called ‘Flying Fish’ but that idea seems to have evolved somewhat.

Life began beneath the sea
Or so they say in botany
An age before the you and me
From plankton to the fish

Something emerged and crawled and walked
Diversified like cheese and chalk
Some would graze and some would stalk
They burrowed, ran and climbed

Feathers and the wings evolved
Beating gravity was solved
Soaring searing hot and cold
Migrating south and north

Species range from weird to wild
Strong and brutal, meek and mild
From beautiful to no one’s child
Kaleidoscope of life

Homo sapiens arrived

Sometimes lived a settled life
Sometimes decimated strife
Nature is a two edged knife
Cruel and kind in one