If all goes well
airlines will sell
seats by the pound
the less you weigh
the less you pay
to fly the world around
and yet
if a commercial Russian airliner jet
unfortunately
crashed into the sea
would there be
Aeroflotsam on the ocean
fragmented and floating free?
It's a riddle
inside a mystery
wrapped in an enema
from 1939 Soviet Union history.
Every human thinks they are immortal,
It is the wretched curse of all mortals,
It’s a constant game of Russian roulette.
Now if I was a smart betting woman,
I would wager all on meeting death,
But I am not a smart betting woman.
I am a child in love with playing god,
I live in the life unending facade.
I fear no evil not even death herself,
Hubris calls my name and spits on my grave,
vanity a siren distorts myself
the touch of danger is what I crave
I am the cursed mortal the gods fear,
I see the warnings yet do not adhere.
Picture a dusty village road
Where two stubborn goats
One older full of pride
Another younger and very agile
Face each other on a narrow bridge
Neither want to back down
They lock horns in front of the whole village
Each claiming the right of way
On the edges, villager elders watched on
Placing bets on who fights better
Turning merchants for their goods
Whilst the drums of propaganda beats on.
But the bridge
thin and weary from the weight
begins to crack beneath their show down
and when it breaks won’t the whole village bleed from the fall?
The west may be attacked in four years a German military
Officer advises.' This after forty years of enc-roaching
N a t o by extra-sizing..And three years into the war by proxy..? My they're patient.!!! What could be hiding? Its
Much like convid maybe? Bio un logical war.' Direct by
W h o.? Now by this officer just be warned.)
Surrounded by his weapons
they’re all that he has left
Of happiness and love
his rotting soul is long bereft
Obsessed with dreams of grandeur
a kingdom in his reach
He hides inside a fortress
fearing always of a breach
Will his food be poisoned?
Will it be his drink?
The paranoid dictator lives
each moment on the brink
I traveled to Russia, bought me a horse
When we got home, I had buyer’s remorse
What would I feed it
What does a horse eat
Horse ordered vodka with beet borscht, of course
Novgorod’s primeval pearl, white circlet of the free
Once lost and forgotten in the Kievan sea
Veiled in millennium old shells, made from wax and birch
Grave of pure souls liberated, cast from the church
Of those forgotten who followed Father Alexandra
Revered soldier of Christ, from the house of Laodicea
Obedient, splitting the world into darkness and light
Dedicated to the Christian faith’s light and plight
“Coveting nothing, leaving villages and kin
O Father Alexandra, please forgive every sin
Defender, save our spirits from the flesh of skin
Evil, death and sin were born before the world we see"
X was their guiding moon, in that Kievan sea
Russian wine
It must have been a winter when the old tanker
sailed through the Dardanelles into the Black Sea
that was full of ice flakes
the tanker was loading black gold at a town I have forgotten the name of, but I recall how spare the street
lighting was on a wide boulevard
We found a restaurant in a stern-looking building
possibly built with Stalin as architect, we had caviar
and drank excellent white whine
the nomenclature sat there in their suit that
appeared to have too much fabric, friendly
sorts who smoked all the time
The dull Soviet Union still existed in its dullness
and general sadness that is over now, people
who makes good wine can't be kept down
Russian Missile
Broken windows like lost teeth in a face.
Shredded curtains hang loosely.
The Russian missile worked.
The Russian refugees
When the war ended in 1945 and the German army
surrendered when the local Nazis were arrested
the whores had had their hair shorn; peace arrived
with stark poverty and need.
My mother got a newspaper round, and the pay was
negligible, but she got bags of old newspaper, pressed
looking like bricks and warming when autumn came
with cold evenings
On our rounds (I was my mother’s little helper) met
a Russian mother and daughter dressed in old clothes
on the way to a café that gave them leftovers, probably
the only meal for the day.
They were the flotsam of war and had ended up in
the backdoor of Europa, they spoke no local language
but individual people were kind to them and often
brought wood to warm their cold rooms.
When we met them, Mother waved and said hello
with a winning smile, they said hello also I think
this little gesture warmed their starved, lonely hearts
destitute as they were and far from home.
Home! Yes, in the end, it’s the place we all want to go.
We go to heaven, for the good weather,
We’re going to hell for the company.
Race 2
Same old going down
Graves of men now silent
Nowt much happening here
Just dead bodies buried
After being riddled blasted
Russians killed by Ukrainians
Prisoners mostly of Wagner
Sentences cut lives now cut
Politicians bathe in blood
They had quite a run
Still race in Part 2
Race 1 was a loss
No victory only death
Plus injuries and ruin
Battlefield injuries extreme
It's fine there's time
So much time here
Satan has all the time
In the world
Wait and see
Eventful War Book 2
Nick Armbrister and other writers
Oh my darling
My Sweet
Russian Queen
Mother of my home
Born of my dreams
Mother of my heart
Hope sewn through our seams
In our troubled history
Lost are we
Wondering
Whispering
Fallen Leafs
Tussling and rustling upon our street
Read and burnt beneath our feat
Angels caught in tears
Hope for happier years
Now silence weeps
Our Russian Queen
We never made it home
Back to thee
Oh my darling
My sweet
Russian Queen
Mother of my home
Born of my dreams
Mother of my heart
Hope sewn through our seams
Babooshka
Tiara karma sutra
The truth within your grace
Our life we sacrificed
Oh my darling
My sweet
Russian Queen
Mother of my home
Born of my dreams
Mother of my heart
Hope sewn through our seams
Babooshka
Tiara karma sutra
The truth within your grace
Our life we sacrificed
In our troubled history
Lost are we
Wondering
Whispering
Fallen Leafs
Gather Us All
Under Thee
Oh my darling
My sweet
Russian Queen
Box Off
The black box that tells of approaching enemy missiles is turned off
The black box that jams enemy missiles it turned off
The black box that dispenses radar jamming chaff is turned off
The black box that launches infra-red flares is turned off
The black box that gives out false position locations is turned off
The black box that plots enemy defence locations is turned off
The black box that steers a course round enemy radars is turned off
The black box that sees enemy anti-aircraft guns is turned off
The black box that should save our jet and our lives is turned off
We are now dead and our warplane is now destroyed
The black box should’ve been turned on
Fallen like
Symphony
Invite play
Unannounced
Frantic rain
Scattered sun
Misty stars
Falling stars
Disquiet.
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