Paris 2.6.2016
We saw the firemen,
Struggling in the river,
Up to their armpits,
On the steps of the
Louvre,
All those precious antiquities,
All those wonderful paintings
Lovingly stored
For the next generation,
About to be obliterated
By an angry river
That we all knew
Could not be
Dammed.
We also saw
A poor drunk
Smashed to the ground
By crazed policemen.
Kicked in the balls
Whilst three of them
Held him up.
Then a knee
In the neck,
As they squashed
His bloody face
Against the cold,
Wet cobblestones,
Needlessly.
He offered no
Resistance,
He uttered no
Cries.
Just
A harmless, old man
Brutalized.
Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 862 times
Written on 2016-06-03 at 17:47
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Seine Rising
We saw the firemen,
Struggling in the river,
Up to their armpits,
On the steps of the
Louvre,
All those precious antiquities,
All those wonderful paintings
Lovingly stored
For the next generation,
About to be obliterated
By an angry river
That we all knew
Could not be
Dammed.
We also saw
A poor drunk
Smashed to the ground
By crazed policemen.
Kicked in the balls
Whilst three of them
Held him up.
Then a knee
In the neck,
As they squashed
His bloody face
Against the cold,
Wet cobblestones,
Needlessly.
He offered no
Resistance,
He uttered no
Cries.
Just
A harmless, old man
Brutalized.
Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 862 times
Written on 2016-06-03 at 17:47
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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