Jonathan ROBIN (22 September / London)
Nerves Up To Date Boston Marathon April 2013 After Olga Katzin Nerves
I think I’ll call home, leave a trace,
I think my cell phone’s down,
imagine being in a race
when struck in Boston town.
From CNN to Internet
both buildings, markets, crash
scare fare flies fast, none know as yet,
overconfidence was rash.
Rumour rampant rises high
relief seems rather slow
comparisons both sad and wry
with Bush's Ground Zero.
It’s just like Black September,
absurd how Time loops still,
since ever we remember
time cycles round at will!
I can’t stroll round, cement and glass
at skittles play with men,
I can’t just stay inside and pass
for an energumen.
It looks like twin tornadoes struck
the marathon to dust,
but by next year with any luck
we’ll run it back, we must!
Tchetchen bomb here, Tchetchen there,
that this should come to be!
FBI where? Fib everywhere,
what difference to me!
I think I’ll roll a joint or two,
or pour another drink,
I really don’t know what to do,
should I consult a shrink?
Since cell phones point to point fell through,
its like a traffic jam,
its pointless trying, none get through
terror wrists on the lam.
Upon prized marathon pride tall
cops failed to stand the test,
exploding concrete, glass and all,
curse jihad Islam blessed!
Some say two brothers flirted
with chaos, on the blink,
it seems as if we’ve skirted
round Armageddon’s brink.
Some say one race united
was meant to turn to flame,
why were those young lives blighted
to burn in Allah’s name!
We see the media lose its cool,
with self-control role gone
to sea - nerve curves from shop to school
rise, double manhunt's on.
As April turns May's corner
the Senate outlaws laws
to keep gun records, mourner
knows who to vote out doors.
Tomorrow who will get the blame,
and will it be deserved?
yet weed world will still say the same,
greed's needs feed speed ill served.
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