I wonder which local tower block rooves
are nesting sites for rapier missiles?
Brooding sentinels, focussed above

for gatecrashers signaled by terror levels,
to hook onto the flailing Doppler shift
of that particular breed of evil

that seeks to blow up OUR Olympics.
Beneath the roof, some residents prepare
for imminent cuts to their benefits,

while job vacancies prove as rare
as bankrupt nations’ gold medal chances.
So jingoism circle jerks with fear,

we watch the sky for enemy advances
and ceremonial pyrotechnic flares;
’cause nobody is covering our arses—

our strategies are strictly ground to air.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Jul 12, 2012 @ 23:43:43

    I like the way you have managed to hit so many bases in one poem. Nearly every idea in this poem could illicit a counter argument….building the Olympic venues provided many jobs and why spend money on expensive air defence equipment if you’re not prepared to use it, being just two.

    This poem vindicates what you were saying about expressing strongly held beliefs in our poetry.


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