Listening to Fela in 98,

Jounieh, Beirut…

Bombs, rocking Nairobi,

Tennis in the afternoon.

 

Beach in the morning

DR Congo yet to come,

Suicide in Kandahar

Massacre on The Russian Road

 

“my brain was squirming like a toad”

 

These are my alternative facts

my North Atlantic Treaty,

my flip-side Warsaw Pacts

in dreams where memories beat me…

 

Half a head, a scalp an arm

are strange kind of rain?

the storm was wild, then after calm

in the silent years before the pain…

 

The women came but later went,

the fun ran out on everything.

When all my bloody soul was spent,

I couldn’t hear the Blackbird sing..