Guernica in Our Time

guernica

                      Black

            White

Red

The colours are always the same

those grotesques we turn away from  

form the same formless faces

the features of fear awaiting the thud

on the earth

hoping that it is and isn’t them

too far to fear death anymore

Black

            White

                        Red

The abattoir’s calculated cull

the clusters releasing their deadly candy

shapes torn to shreds

so that mothers are no longer human

daughters no longer children

sons no longer men

a metropolis becomes a sluicing floor

                        Black

            White

Red

the brushstrokes will change nothing

save no one

from the inhumanity that is in humanity

as a work in progress

we watch in numb silence the execution

the tearing of our thin veneer

to reveal who we really are

            Black

            White

                    Blood Red

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