Punching Nazis (or, ‘Sorry Mum, It’s Hard To Know What’s Right Anymore’)

By: Lydia Crow

 

Do not resort to violence,
You must learn to understand.
Try to speak their language,
Don’t draw lines across the sand.

But when violence is their language,
Inciting fear and hate,
Interpretation falters, struggles;
It’s too little or too late.

They will choose their platform,
And I will choose my own.
And I’ll stand firm even as their words
Chill me to the bone.

Surely they will understand,
That I’ve heard their cry of war?
Now, across this broken battlefield,
We know what we’re fighting for.

I’ll try to take them hostage,
Exchanging words in peace;
I’ll try to rehabilitate them all,
Turn them in to the Police.

But if that fails I’ll think again
And, though I know it’s wrong,
I hope you’ll understand that I’m
Just speaking in their tongue.

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Completed First Draft

Completed First Draft

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Restock Required

Restock Required

Restock Required

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Inauguration Week

By: Lydia Crow

 

Amused disbelief,
derision, horror. We mock
the trumped-up man-child.

Laughter turns to fear,
and the newspapers threaten
tears before bedtime.

And now, just waiting.
Heads bowed, they shake in horror
at this brave new world.

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Golden Boy

The Sun Still Rises

And the sun still rises.

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Mauthausen

Mauthausen-Gusen

There is so much we must not disregard; and yet the more perilous the times, the more we are persuaded to forget.

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Seeing Double

Seeing Double

Paris;
A whiter shade of pale.

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Available for the Duration

Available for the Duration

Available for the Duration

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Love in the Air

Love In the air, at the South Bank.

Love
In the air, at the South Bank.

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Telescope Located

Telescope Located

Telescope Located

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