That’s not genocide

That’s not genocide

Of course they are killing people by the thousands

Tanks and bombs and missiles from the sky

Hospitals are working day and night to save lives

So more bombs were needed to wipe the hospitals out

This meant so many more had to be left to die

Still they resisted so new approaches were needed

Why not deny them food except for the crumbs

Slow starvation so that they would eventually die

Whilst pretending that the offered crumbs were aid

Malnutrition of infants had its use for the oppressor

Pregnant mothers would they hoped soon abort

Why not kill the doctors so even fewer survive

Maybe journalists as well to ensure no truth leaks out

In an era where freedom of speech risks repercussion

Should anyone remain they must be driven from the land

But first label them as terrorists and not refugees

Even the toddlers who are not as high as knees

A land which after all is nothing but prime real estate

Why not deny they are a nation or even a state

Then nobody will give a damn about their fate

If they are terrorised sufficiently they will try to leave

In the hope that other nations will receive

Apparently none of this counts as genocide

To the leaders who choose to close their eyes

To those whose aim is to murder and destroy

Yet each act is genocide in law

How did we sink to such depravity

Why are we failing to question a mentality

That accepts leadership with such insanity

Can you look your own children in the face

To tell them such deeds are normal and fine

That all this is part of a greater western design

Where evil is intended to triumph in time

Copyright: David Hopcroft September 2025

The Loch

The Loch

Did time stand still upon the shimmering waters

On that morning when the gulls did not scream

Where the brown wrack lay limp upon the shore

In a world that was captured in the dawn dream

The mist lay low and dense upon the salt sea

Hills hidden and paths known only to the stag

Criss crossed the ridge where the lynx slipped away

Whilst nestlings of the hawk shivered on a crag

Through the mist came the sound of a splash

Ripples spreading out from the touch of the oar

Sail lowered the helmsman stared out ahead

Seeking out a sandy bank to come ashore

A scraping of oak upon stone the moment arrived

Oars raised the men reached for sword and shield

To follow a trail where the smoke hung in the air

Where the clan lay sleeping their fate sealed

When the mist rose and the sun burned through

With bodies strewn across fields there had been no escape

Heather thatch still smouldered with the smell of death

Another village plundered and pillaged in a thirst for rape

The longship slipped quietly away the sail was raised

Their bloodied swords washed the waters turning red

In a world where the evil of greed had diseased the mind

They dreamed of Valhalla but became the undead

Copyright: David Hopcroft August 2024