Forgiving you
Gives me a sense of satisfaction!
And gives you resentment.

Woke up in a town
Where Jesus’ dad- the carpenter,
Starts hammering at six.

Midas touch perhaps
The women of the precinct
Are pregnant again.

Twelve years old
Trained by cold, sinister men
To blow themselves up.

Youth of sink estates
Are only made welcome when
There’s a war gong on.

Peace isn’t obtainable
If we think by fighting wars
We’ll secure it.