They still search
For the bodies
In the rubble
And the dust
The stench of death
It guides them
The cold stone
Bleeds and cuts.
Politics plays
Holding hands
Like children in
The school
But the whistle of
Exploding bombs
Makes mockery
Of fools.
History if
Nothing more
Tells distortion
Of the facts
The statues built
In honour
But not of those
Who sacrificed.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: August 2nd, 2026 03:52
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Paul Bell

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Comments5
History written by not only the winners but about the ones with power and money not the ones behind the scenes and under the rubble. Nicely said Norman.
Many thanks my friend, always much appreciated
You are most welcome Norman
Norman, the contrast between suffering and political pageantry is devastating. It exposes how empty public gestures become when ordinary people pay the price. Powerful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
thanking you, always much appreciated my friend
And yet they parade both at some angles even hand in hand. Too much of a coincidence to not be foul play. A very exposing write. 🙏🏻🕊️
so glad it hit home, thanks and appreciation my friend
Most welcome dear friend 🕊️🙏🏻
Good write N.
Ahh, the bus shelter reduced to rubble and dust, cos it been there so long?! lol.
where am I gonna stand then ? lol
lol.
21st century, not a lot has changed it seems.
In fact, I would say we're going backwards.
I agree my friend, only the ability to kill has improved, thanks for read much appreciated
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