The London Bombings ©

underground the rats are out
carrying packages into town
one man’s god in a haversack
a perversion of the holy koran

nothing to alert the coffee eyes
to a reader’s interpretation of lies
no early morning warning signs
two wrongs unable to make a right

this is my stop which one’s yours
my work’s done today
I cannot wait but there is a message
left in my bag on the train

people wrapped in silver foil
shivering from the shock
combing the blast from out of their hair
picking glass from their pockets

the memories live the sights the sounds
the smell the taste the cries
the dreams of fallen malformed bodies
the guilt of being alive

flowers to represent thoughts unsaid
to symbolise the inadequacy of words
to bring some colour to good and bad
some meaning to all those wasted lives