Poem 'Ghouta'

Ghouta

War tumbles onto dust smeared children

seeking a home for gentle games and growing up.

Higher up, electronic battle pours its million dollar hate

onto those who cannot make the lights stay on.

Making a blitzkrieg of barrels; illegal crude to blood.

War crime piles up as the city is atomised; God is great?

Mouth reflected, eye banished; gulps of air in grey dust.

Black plane, green plane; a million, billion miles from home.