A MURDER OF CROWS
- You sit in the park
- shredding bread
- feeding the crows
- feathered sharks
- they fight one another
- though there’s plenty
- to see all fed
- and what about that runt
- thin in poor condition
- a bundle of woe
- its weakening legs shunted
- losing its place
- in the feast
- as the craw of the plump bird’
- grows
- you want to feed it
- but the murder
- forms a border
- that’s called the survival
- of the fittest
- which maintains a nation’s
- order
- re: Darwin still in vogue
- as the passive
- witness
- are we too such unreasoning animals
- that we can’t intervene in
- this society’s pitilessness
Wilson John Haire.
THE HAVEN
- Bluethroats
- Chakor partridge
- Demosielle crane
- Sandgrouse
- Houbara bustard
- The General Atomics Mq-9
- Reaper Drone
- all visitors
- to this safe haven for birds
- and Taliban
- the boy holds a catapult
- with a plan
- fills the sling with a
- stone
- who or what dies
- the nerd on the keyboard
- eats French fries
- the dad finishes painting
- the roof
- five faces of his
- kids
- rough sketches but
- proof
- of his peace bid
- the reaper
- stiller than a hawk
- looks
- for something to cook
- the boy aims
- but hits the Bluethroat
- and lames
- the bird tries to climb
- steeper
- shrilling its last nightingale
- notes
- then on one wing
- spirals down
- dad
- descends in a panic
- above
- the slow crawl of a crab
- with an electric generator
- sound
- fingers rattle the keyboard
- a coca-cola poured
- the reaper waits
- inanimately bored.
. Wilson John Haire.
WHEN UNCLE SAM COMES TO VISIT
- He comes to the house
- and knocks on the door,
- It’s Uncle Sam
- whom the children adore.
- Dad is strict and there’s one boy
- in particular he damns.
- Mum agrees he’s more a pit-bull than her little
- lamb.
- He’d wreck the house if given half a
- chance.
- Uncle has brought gifts,
- our armaments to enhance,
- like guns, planes, bombs, bullets
- and poison gas.
- Dad laughs, as much as his triple-bypass
- allows:
- you accursed ayatollah,
- you next door,
- yes, you you whore,
- you religious missionary
- wallah!
- Thank you, Uncle,
- and all those lads and lassies at
- Porton Down.
- It’s time to lance that carbuncle.
- Our neighbour will now wear
- a shroud with a perpetual frown.
- A wink from Uncle and we take
- over another home.
- Then Uncle says get out.
- But Uncle!
- We’ve fallen into a trap,
- it wasn’t our reward.
- to take what’s ours,
- to roam.
- Worse now – Uncle calls us
- short-sighted,
- and,
- he’s far from happy.
- It seems we’re now too powerful,
- so,
- we’re indicted
- through our action being untoward.
- That boy, the would-be wrecker, now has a
- thick beard.
- He’s Uncle’s favourite to be
- feared.
- Our house is wrecked.
- Dad’s been hanged.
- Mum’s in prison.
- It’s chaos but Uncle says there’s order
- in that vision.
- Doesn’t he mean his eating
- disorder
- with we his fodder.
Wilson John Haire.
Labour Affairs Magazine 