war

T&Cs

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

thou shalt not kill
except until
the picture changes
and law rearranges
fighters into terrorists
murderers into specialists
to implement the government’s will

thou shalt not kill
except until
you own the rights
to the skies at night
turning buildings to rubble
without much trouble
into clicks and media thrills

thou shalt not kill
except until
you pass more laws
to draw applause
and politicians sign big cheques
to smoke your cities into wrecks
and people equal landfill

thou shalt not kill
except until
you get pragmatic
add words in italic
*terms and conditions apply
so your planes can fly
and hungry patriots eat their fill

lip service

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month

I was patiently queuing to pay for my lunch

fresh pasta, sauce, broccoli spears

waiting in line at one of the cashiers

(there were just too many discouraging scenes

spilling around the self service machines)

when a voice said : ‘join us in a moment of remembrance’ 

and before she’d even finished the sentence

the lights started fading, the place fell quiet

and apart from coughing everyone was silent

I stared at the point of sale display

opposite me at the checkout today

ibuprofen, lip salve and handy wipes

for coping with cold related gripes

and I thought of a sappy line, as it goes:

we’re lucky it’s salve not salvos

then the lights flickered on, the noise came back

and my bougie lunch trundled off down the track

and I felt a bit cowed – The Somme, The Blitz

all that suffering and dying FOR THIS? 

a cool blue laminated lanyard

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

swipe right on a mountain of skulls / picked over by gulls / and rats / and souvenir hunters armed with sticks and bats / the whole thing as efficiently organised / as any of the best, most highly-rated genocides / all the wages promptly paid / promotional posters displayed / boots & buttons neatly polished / international banking norms acknowledged / shining lines of communication / cutlery, pots & ammunition / and twirling happily at your chest / the thing that marks you out from the rest / that bulletproof badge of the beautiful vanguard

a cool blue laminated lanyard

or this

a nondescript detention centre / smeared with blood & dried placenta / loose & lazy lines of police outside / arms-folded on armour-plated rides / bagels & babyccinos on the side / and the only thing YOU have to decide / is how in hell you’ll make it out alive / now the King of the Cocks / has cancelled your passport and changed the locks / and doctored clips of you and a fox / and cleared your flat and DNA’d your socks / and cleaned from your numerous offshore accounts / all those improbably sized amounts / you thought would see you safely through / to that country pile in that country purlieu / but the cruelest blow of all / the thing you absolutely cannot deal with at all / the thing that leaves you scared & scarred

the taking of your cool blue laminated lanyard

because

there was nothing you could not do / with your laminated lanyard swinging in full view / no queue you could not jump / no deal trump / or waste dump / no vote you could not turn or policy gazump / it was your Get Out of Moral Responsibility Free card / your Access All Areas for the Die-Hard / your personal, interplanetary-limit platinum card / your Golden Pass to the stars and tsars sipping cocktails in the coolest bars at the sharpest, tippiest top of the London Shard – the loss of which you now lament so VERY hard

your cool blue laminated lanyard