Sunday, 4 November 2018


They told me
Today you will bend your head
Today you will do what we tell you
You are a chattel, a thing
And we rule.

Today I bent my head
Waiting for tomorrow.

They told me
Today you will pick up a gun
Today you will kill for us
Today you will die for us
For the enemy is at the door.

I did not pick up the gun.
The quarrels of kings
Are nothing to do with me.

The enemy came, they told me to say
How much I loved them, and invite them to stay.
The enemy came, I bowed my head
And told them what they wanted said,

For, I thought, tomorrow you will be gone.

My daughter, six years old today
Went to school, stopped to play
A finger pressed a button
Half a world away,

A silver speck in the sky above
Laid a silver egg
Trailing flame.

And there was no daughter
I have no daughter

Today, I will pick up a gun
Your time has come.

Copyright B Purkayastha 2018


  1. That would turn me into a monster, their worst enemy.

  2. Outstanding poem. The goal of the US MIC is $, and by killing children, we provoke their parents into proving that the MIC needs more $. So all works out as planned.


  3. And this is how 'Merikkka creates more and more terrorists every hour all around the planet.
    Great poem any way Bill, many thanks for this one.


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