There is no crisis
that’s never been made, no war
we’ve ever had to join. Why
don’t you stop! – look
at what you’re doing? Don’t
turn off the TV and ignore
the paper headlines stacked
in front of you, they lead you into their
What are you? Can a jackass
stare back from the mirror? Even
gods call you sheep, creatures who
need to be brought in – whoever said
should be so? The more I say no, each
time you refuse to
toe the line, so much sooner
you and I become us
and then we
© copyright David F. Barker 2013
I am not a pacifist, but most conflict is avoidable.
See Milly Reynolds’ work here:
available at amazon.com and amazon.co.uk
‘Manifesto’ is due out on amazon and kindle imminently!
Taking a break from crime fiction, Milly Reynolds’ new ebook is an imaginative and quirky take on the state of current affairs as well as the meandering course of history.
Eleanor Cross, a disaffected Tory MP, takes us with her as she rides on the waves of destiny towards the formation of a new political party which will challenge old ideas.
Written as a very loose prose poem, this book sets down the policies that some might put in place if given the chance to take over the country.
Aiming where novella meets prose poem, Milly Reynolds has really pulled out the stops with this unusual new ebook. Both mysterious and funny, contemporary yet timeless, Milly’s head strong heroine, a disaffected MP, is challenged to ride the transformative waves of destiny towards a new future for herself and her country. An imaginative and quirky take on the state of current affairs and the long course of history.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
In the morning we cooked eggs,
wrapped the blanket around ourselves,
tucking in and staring like zombies
at a dead TV. There was little reason to speak,
to say that food seldom tasted so good.
Birmingham, that first time,
seemed like the bleakest place;
November had fallen cold and hard
and Rubery, the name you couldn’t say,
was depressed and downbeat,
so many shops boarded up
it was like a battle zone.
But there was enough to be grateful for
in that nest of warmth,
watching Saturday’s light rise
and bleach your bedsit walls
poem © copyright df barker 2012