Submissions by Chris

Red poppies stuck like glue
          on everybody's coats.
"Remember our veterans", they cry.
"They died for our freedom" screams
                reactionary morons who
                           ignore that "they"
                             murdered other people.
"Ah, but it's not murder if it's done by
                no mind drones on our side!"
                                     they explain.
Honour our soldiers?
          So I'm to celebrate men killing
               other men? ...

Nylon stockings over face.
The photographed sequence of
choreographed events
cascade over and over

into paths never spoken of.

Age one on the mounted
message is clear as drizzled wings

sneered by ornaments in drag.

A double tone of tolerance
is wanted but is not welcomed.

Were we still dancing when the
music did not mean anything to
us anymore?

Artificial roses on the table.
Plastic food in the fridge.

We sat for dinner in solemn
manifestation.
My plate was full.
My...