Better safe
That's why I have these walls
The ramparts and guard towers
The people armed and ready
They know what happens
If the walls are breached
What happens to a people
When a fortress falls
The stories of the brave and careless
Who chose to battle
Who left the gates open for the traders
Who beat the tambourines
As they pulled Troy's gift in
Emergency declared by the steely despot
Watching Europe burn
The gunners polishing the barrels
Protruding through concrete smiles
The crosses by the moonlit river
A grim reminder of war
The order pinned to each post
Not an inch to be given
The silent women and children
In a cellar sitting on gunpowder barrels
The little daggers and service revolvers
For the chance that the gates are blown open
And the city falls yet again to
Yet another flower-smelling brute
The raider, the cynical conquerer, the peacekeeper
The shredded truce in his soft hands
The dead men staring limp at his back
As the city self-destructs in a final blaze of glory.
A bitter love poem with Stalin references. I think this sums up most of my poetry pretty well.
As part of the BPC workshop, we had a week to make a poem using half a phrase. I chose "better safe than sorry" and the poem wrote itself. I wrote this listening to "Dustland" by The Killers ft. Bruce Springsteen in the same sitting as "Ibrahim's Idol".
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