Poetry is my therapy

Two concrete twins grow up Floor by floor. Paragliding, free-flying, The mighty soar. 2996 blue plaquesImmortalised forever. For the terrorism of the innocent. Two planes as weapons; Civilisation on red alert! Look out of the windows,The words, “Life terminated!” Shepherd the flock,Crisp the end, The thought of the emerging suicide. Tribute for the brave; Horror streaming inside. A lottery number for survival. The guilt of the ‘Stairwell B 16,’ Locked in a cupboard of memories. White flags, no surrender. American helmets climb the mountain For what awaits them -A black inferno of eternal toxins. Wake up world! South Tower annihilated within the hour, 343 water angels sleep, 71 officers - a rifle salute. New York shows the mournful laments of families. Hear the judgement, Snatch the air. All is key driven in twisted limbs of metal. A public art gallery; A sacred museum. Recovery, no stigma. Fabric stars lay dormant. blood on the table of power. For one proud

The Nazi network of punishment tax Where the flesh slave in borrowed time. A pencil so fine; Pigment-coded numbers. Tickets for the empty shoeboxes; Concentrated with blood, the butchers’ cell. An appointment awaits And the witnessed condition specified -Jew! Still the moment, Magazines loaded. 1.5 million children erased. With a Magpie's tail the classroom puzzle cast. A coward’s warrant for the SS insignia; Salute and greet the Swastika. Information inside barbed wire; Officers vindicated in their crimes. Deliberate, wilful intent, Powerful in hate. Ill and direct towers point, Volunteers for a perfume so ghastly. The thermostat roars in annihilation. Killed in liquid; destroyed, no exit; The pipeline is never-ending. No finish for the massacre. Indignant, the soldier. The eight tombs cry. A chapter and verse holocaust What a defenceless loan of genocide. A vacuum of indignity. So terminal the strike. The shower - private in sadness. Such an exer

A fishermen's tale in a book we dress in a carpet of dreams. Nine angels streaming over the hall Who drink the silver cup of loyalty. Songs lift the walls. That lonely traveller In a pew. Silent and forlorn. Families running verses through their fingers. So we cast with a pebble Life's ripples on a pond. Pick a star out of my pocket. Such an old door, confetti on the floor. Fairytales of dusty promises we made. Look at the candlestick so forlorn; With seeds of judgement, peg a page to Our hearts. Walk in two by two, an olive branch So many souls lost. Let fly with the wings of life. Painted skin Many a fold. Such is love, so pure in sunlight one's rose of beauty embers In a picture frame on the sideboard. Leadership arrives with four seasons; Nails so deep; the burden of so many Whose table is laden. We give with gifts and Shove them a drawer such lies flame our sins. A suitcase in Sunday best, for who shall trespass into the wilderness? Be di