Why This Age Is Even Worse Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

Forget stupor and dread, hope is dead.

Those unhealed wounds that we touched

Do not suppurate - ‘you are mistaken:

You are wrong to believe that they ever existed'.



This is an age in which truth is erased -

The bully smacking your head against the wall

Of the schoolyard - ‘it didn't happen

There is nobody to tell, they won't believe you'.



And death again chalks the doors with crosses,

As the ravens are gathering and wheeling,

But there will be nothing to be seen

Hope and truth have been back-slash deleted.



This is an age when all decency is ended.

The little boy assaulted and soiled but rewarded

With a broken toy soldier - ‘best not to mention this:

It is too out of line - can it be substantiated? '



This is an age of contempt for the disadvantaged -

Like the little girl who is abused for her disability,

The butt of mimed mimicry - ‘facts contended,

Cruelty easily become ambiguity - easily contained'.



This is an age without heroes, honour, and quests

Where a new race of sardonic rats prepare their feasts,

But there will be nothing to be seen

When the junk files of decency and compassion are cleaned.