Most pictures and words from Anthony C Murphy

Saturday, 5 January 2013


It doesn’t matter
Where we are
We will feel death
Be dead
Bunkered or trenched
Probably droned these days
We will be licked like the whimpering bitches of an history
That always professes to care for us
Born but to some ongoing bloody circus
As well as a nightingale’s song

Maybe abed we will go
Hospital bedded
Wearing striped pyjamas
Silk pajamas
Or none

Queueing for bread
On a line for corn
Anticipating rice
Craving gruel
Shaving gold
It doesn’t matter
How we go

We could die as communists or capitalists
And never know the difference
It won’t matter
And we will not be

We will whimper like licked bitches of history
Born bloody
Pinned and spun
All of us undone
Unless no unless

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