Written By
Poet and Photographer J H Martin @ A Coat for a Monkey
NO NEWS
A man got out of his car
And emptied his gun
Into the nearby buildings
Two children were killed
By a heavy goods truck
And somebody somewhere
Was awarded a medal for bravery
While I looked at
Black and white photos
Of war crimes and genocide
And listened to a belly dancer talking
About how she used to climb trees
In her village up north
Before she became a film star
Outside
By the river
The dealers didn’t stop
And the thieves didn’t notice
But the fried rice was good
And the beer was ice cold
It reminded me of France
Twenty years ago
A small crêperie old friends
And more photos on the walls
Of bullet pocked statues
And ransacked temples
When she gave us the bill
The owner asked for a donation
To send to the cause
Yes
Before the train tracks were laid
Their people moved in
And the maps were then changed
Not that the bar girls
Looked up from their phones
No
And the tuk tuk drivers
Didn’t put down
Their wrenches and chains
And stop mugging that guy
Outside that run-down pool hall
On Street Something-Or-Other
Not one person asked
Or said a thing to me
About
The gunman
The children
The medals or wars
Like then
As like now
They stick to their drinks
And I stick to mine
There’s a fight on the TV
And a young girl with great legs
Stood by some fool at the bar
Yes
It’s all over in nine seconds
But I’m not surprised when they leave
Monday
September
Eighty Nine
Or two Thousand and Seventeen
It doesn’t matter
Does it?
From London to Phnom Penh
From then until now
It’s just the same old same old
City stained rouge
Image and text © J H Martin
J H’s Previous Contribution To Edge Of Humanity Magazine
