Thursday, April 04, 2019

New Poetry by Alex Munster










The Massacre

Who am I, now they are like the others?
– this early century, late espoused murders
while music played, aircraft fell, when streets cried,
 and now in mosques among Christ’s churches.

Am I the pink-skinned, lazy invader
who bled-out white on the African sand?
Or, rejected from the holy deserts, 
I take a piece of a green gentle land?

Did we consume our credit, forfeit belief,
guilty or strong, innocent or weak?
Accept accepted thinking, and just allowed
lumpen resentment to be first to speak?

Too many already, they’ve made up their mind,
None of us better than this wounded time.


- Alex Munster 2019


Alex Munster is a retired journalist and current bookmaker who lives on Sydney's north shore.


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