no suicide, no dirty water

it's never the end
no suicide, no dirty water
cold beneath a careless bridge
the wind, the mist, ebb and tide
no suicide, no dirty water
fire in the coldest sea.
this is your brain.
this is the wall.
no suicide, cracking plaster
chips away, chips and falls.
the water full of fish and chips
broken fingers, dirty water
no suicide, fuck suicide.
a pipe, a hose, an enclosed room
no suicide, no bluer a face
bare a soul today.

© 2005 Eline

The Base

A selfish young man stepped on the bus
Clutching a knapsack and anger inside;
Already his fellows had caused quite a fuss,
On trains, with bombs; too many had died.

The war had been fought and was fighting once more:
The terror beheld some final crusade;
The mountains concealed a common outlaw,
Swept under the carpet for his holy Raid.

The outlaw outlived the outward campaign
And mustered his men to hide in the Base,
Like beetles or moles; the power they feign
Was passed to a runner in a parallel race.

The fighting was done and the war had been fought,
But the next thing we know the terror is back,
So we're fed once again the lies we had bought,
And the hunt is back on for the head of the pack.

They closed the city, the risks were too high:
Nothing was safe, no buses, no trains,
All of it built on a blood-coloured lie:
Pray, inshallah, who boarded the planes?

© 2006 Eline

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