Last week we were all slaughtered
Me, you, the toddler and the dog
Innocence lost without ever knowing the truth
But when you whispered breathlessly through my tears
That everything was going to be OK
Didn’t you realise that I believed you?
Please say where I should now dispose of
The warm hope that each sunrise brought
And which I kept for sustenance for the shivery dark nights
Our love, our memories, our simple dreams
Converted in a millisecond into a neat statistic
A meaningless number for the once passionate morning reader
To be digested along with the latest celebrity-endorsed diet
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Edvard Moonke 
That’s beautiful. Don’t tell me you wrote that?
Well, not so much wrote it as farted it out. ok, there’s no point being churlish about this; I do feel a huge amount of empathy towards innocent people caught up in conflict in far-off places who have no voice. And I do despise the ‘once passionate’ public who think nothing of voicing their support for wars which will obliterate people who mean nothing to them: out of sight and out of mind. But this is not that kind of blog…
If you farted this out, I wonder what might happen had you done a number two… This is really rather good actually and doesn’t deserved to be labelled as excrement.
I agree with Ariel
Beauteous…..and tragic, of course.
Very impressive, Edvard.
Ok then. So there are more poems. More excellent poems.