The child looked at me
Tears welling in her eyes
I felt impotent, powerless to help
So hid behind my uniformed guise
Mother pushed her forward
(I don't know what she said)
I pretended to 'ne razumem'
But knew they wanted bread
Brandished in her tiny fist
A Deutschmark coin, symbol of peace
Prosperity to her unknown
Emblem of prevaricating democracy
Feeling confused, what should I do
I asked a mate (wouldn't you?)
"Fuck man, I wouldn't give these people the steam off my shit!"
The philosopher replied
I laughed like the tough guy I was meant to be
Shoved it to the recess of memory
It haunts me sometimes, when I'm drunk
When I know in my mind that I'm a cunt
Portsmouth
June 1996
YOU ARE READING
Danger Close
PoetryA short collection of modern war poetry 1995 - 2014 Highly personal, this short anthology draws on the writer's experiences as a soldier and officer of the British Army in conflict zones in Europe, Africa, Iraq and Afghanistan. Although, the major...
