John-Ward Leighton

SLEPT LIKE I WAS DEAD

Photo ©Copyright 2008 by John-Ward Leighton
Dad’s Military Funeral , May 1970
Photo ©Copyright 2008 by John-Ward Leighton
Talked and talked
about this world in the age of Empire.
Where profit is the only ethic
and the human being is
the relentless virus
about to destroy its host
in an insane burst of nuclear fire.

A place, a home, a square meal will soon
be no more
and the pictures of want and waste
will be turned on open fires
and arranged to our taste.
Smart bombs:
smarter than those who would use them.
Food riots and foreign wars will
not feed anybody.
Treasuries printing worthless currency,
propping up a corrupt system
no matter how much is printed
in a world where most of us will be tramps
you can’t eat dollar bills or food stamps.

In this time of endless war
on a now meaningless word
who wins, who loses,
who eats, who staves,
who is the saint, who is the whore,
who loves, who hates,
who builds, who gets the loot,
who lies,
and who tells the truth?

Don’t ask who dies
because all you will hear are lies
and it’s all about the when and the how
because the answer is:
all of us
now.

The good work in silence,
but the evil and the bad are much acclaimed
they use
the perfume of their celebrity
to cover
the stench of their bad ideas
that has farmland feeding
the internal combustion engine
while millions starve.

All this predicted
in my horrific colourful dreams while in my bed
the screams of the tortured and dying
filled my head
this night when
I slept like I was dead.