You never realise...

You never realise how big the sky is
Until there are no mountains to share it with...

It's short!
I thought of it whilst being driven around in Normandy. There aren't any mountains, and the sky looks enormous.

War porn has always existed.

With each sensual finger,
War beckoned.
The guns screamed
come!
The tanks groaned
come!
The trenches whispered
come!
The dead men said
no...
But the posters cried
NOW!

And now,
we watch the excitement
on small, grainy screens;
horrified, panting, aroused,
as real people are obliterated.
Because peace is never as seductive
as the pornography of war.

Peace, love and slightly politically incorrect poetry.

Again...

Again, again
I've written your name
in my little book.

Train, train
again, your name
scrawls itself.

Grass, grass
tumbles past.
I write your name.

Keep, keep
your memory, asleep
under my coat

Grey, grey
old motorway.
I write your name.

Eyes, eyes
and billboard lies
grow and shrink.

See, see
Nothing is free
but your name.

I don't usually post poems straight out. I write them up on word, leave them for a few weeks, then come back an fussily change one or two words. If I'm still not happy it will be another few weeks before they make it onto the net. Sometimes I forget that I've written them. But this poem was transcribed straight from a few jotted lines in my notebook. :) Hope it's okay.