by Michael Brett | Mar 19, 2011 | Poetry
There are no Nazi Porn Stars on the Moon. Humanity can slump into its accustomed chair In front of bearded Taliban on the news. Victory’s certain and victory is soon -Remember- There are no Nazi Porn Stars on the Moon. Our enemies now all smoke and do not shave,...
by Michael Brett | Mar 19, 2011 | Poetry
Atomic bombs are shadow cats That move invisibly amongst us, like angels. They purr in Geiger counters, grin Cheshire In ministerial assurances at the despatch box Of their necessity In repelling rats, mice and those in national dress And olive uniforms that our...
by Michael Brett | Mar 19, 2011 | Poetry
I’ve come back to the battlefield for the memorial service. Today, the dead names chime like antique clocks All set at different times. The blue riflemen shoulder arms and walk away, Leaving us to live on through this time of careless miracles Where the dead can speak...
by Michael Brett | Mar 19, 2011 | Poetry
From a big country, in big plane, I travelled ten thousand miles to be here, To this bed-sized scrap, to this sick land My world has shrunk to. I am examined every moment By the Surgeon Explosive. He takes my pulse. I can feel his binocular gaze pinching me, Running...
by Michael Brett | Mar 10, 2011 | Poetry
He is a conjuror. His bullets are birds’ eggs. He cloaks the theatre in his magic smoke. He mesmerises people. He cuts ladies in half. Encamped, wind battered in a tent Of flesh, I carry him and his boxes as he tours. I watch his stars with nets of bad luck Trawl the...
