Barack and bill
Went up the Hill
To try to save the dollar;
Talks broke down
Between the clowns
And markets tumbled after.

© Anthony Baverstock

US debt crisis: Republican budget proposal passed in House of Representatives
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Anthony Baverstock is from Colchester, reputed home of Humpty-Dumpty.

Getting out and about at poetry readings, I am well aware that there really isn't any subject that a poet somewhere won't tackle. It's good to know this.
After the shocking events in Norway, it was a brave Martin A. Bartels who took up the gauntlet to write about it. And his 'Epitaph' was a fitting poem, zooming in on a map from the broad sweep of global tragedies right into our own homes, where: The coffee mugs are always clean. / The muddled bedroom is empty.
Another brave poem was 'Of Somalia' by 'Anna' which powerfully denounces regimes that allow their people to starve for the sake of religious differences or political point-scoring. It reminds us of the importance of humanity amidst tragedy. The same is true of Charlene Langfur's 'Baghdad Morning in America' - the subtle rhythms and repetitions reminding us of the still-growing list of the dead: And the names are read quietly. Paced. A number. Another.

Also this week, we had some nifty wordplay from David Francis Barker in 'Debit' and further welcome 'relief' from new contributer David Bateman who took a 'wee' pop at the police in 'We Are Sorry (But...)'. We finished the week with Philip Challinor's Soldiers of Fortune which took a cynical look at politicians wanting old soldiers to 'spend a penny' too!
When choosing which poems to publish, we try where possible to get a variety of subjects and styles, light and dark - tricky sometimes when we have such a fast turnover! We want poems on the subjects everyone is talking about, and those little stories most people won't have heard of that capture the imagination.
We'd be interested to know what you think about the mix on Poetry24. Do we get the balance right?

Come join us, for we love you; you are many.
No other party offers rates like this.
Come join us; let us help you spend a penny.
You have our word we will not take the piss.

We are no longer Halliburton's poodles;
We're not the ones who sent you to Iraq.
Come join us in your regiments and oodles -
We need your help to get our numbers back.

Come join us, for the Tories do not love you.
They're not your friends as they have oft been billed.
Come join us; we're your equals, not above you.
We want your wisdom, if you've not been killed.

© Philip Challinor

Labour party to offer military veterans membership for 1p
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Philip blogs at 'The Curmudgeon' - He insists, "You'll come for the curses. You'll stay for the mudgeonry." Philip is the author of a number of books.

“Police chiefs fear the lack of loo breaks is
behind complaints from members of the public
of ‘incivility, impoliteness and intolerance’.”

We are sorry – Mail Online, 20th July 2011

We are sorry about the incivility
but we were dying to go to the toilet.

We are sorry about the impoliteness
but we were dying to go to the toilet.

We are sorry about the intolerance
but we were dying to go to the toilet.

We are sorry about the baton charge
but we were dying to go to the toilet.

We are sorry about going a bit mad
in that beanfield in Wiltshire that time
but we were dying to go to the toilet.

We are sorry about Jean Charles de Menezes
but we were dying to go to the toilet.

We are sorry about Sharpeville
but we were dying to go to the toilet.

We are sorry about Dachau
but we were all really, really
dying to go to the toilet.


© David Bateman

Riot police demand toilet breaks 'to stop them from wetting themselves'
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David was Liverpool Poetry Slam Champion 2007, and still hasn’t got over it. His one proper book is Curse Of The Killer Hedge (Iron 1996). He also writes stories and teaches some creative writing.

What kind of zealot
By oppression and denial
Would further starve
The very bodies, minds and souls
Of his brothers, sisters
Who through famine
Linger, emaciated
As death waits
Expectedly, hungrily
In the shadows?

What kind of zealot
Would refuse
Western, Christian aid
As his people
Who long to live
Sweep up innocent tiny
Scraps of life,
(Who suckle hungrily
At arid breasts)
And trudge wearily
On perilous journeys
For weeks, days
To escape
The ever expanding
Famine zone?

What kind of zealot
Believes his God
Will allow him
Entry to Heaven as
He watches, weeping,
As mankind, His creation
Spews evil in His name?

What kind of zealot
Truly believes that
Allah by His judgement
Will allow him entry
To Heaven by His mercy
And not cast him
Into Hell by His justice?

© 'Anna'

Somalia's Hungry Need Urgent Help
-------------------------------------
I am passionate about my world and write my feelings in both poetry and prose. I live in the UK and for personal reason prefer to remain just 'Anna'.
Anna says: "I realise that the reasons for the famine are complex, global politics have played a part and interest in providing aid by some governments is driven by Somalia’s oil production – but nevertheless for Al-Shabaab to deny a problem and deny aid horrifies me."

The last time I looked,
there was no I in debt.
Default isn't anyone's fault.
The I of irony is much more telling:
Where democracy was first wrought
in ancient Athens' crucible,
there's now a furnace for the Euro.
The meltdown that makes Merkel
wish for the Deutschmark,
makes Sarkozy cosy up
to the Franc of his dreams.
But who dares pull the ace
from this temple of cards?
And should America say 'no dice',
then whose turn is it to throw?
It would be to our credit
to put the I back into debt.

© David Francis Barker

Eurozone leaders warned over seriousness of Greek debt
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David Francis Barker: 'I try to paint, write poetry, prose, sometimes music - I guess that makes me an artist.'

We are stilled by such tragedies
as we cannot comprehend. Those
children in Russia, Virginia,
Norway, Colorado. So many.

Nature, too, inflicts inertia.
Tsunamis, hurricanes, and fires
deconstruct the careful longing,
our sure pretense of relevance,

leaving inadequate options:
to take comfort in words in which
there can be no comfort, to paint
our religions, coax them to life.

Mapmakers today understand
the world is made entirely
of layers: air patterns, land and
watersheds, forest and roadways,

urban densities, also known
as towns and the people within.
Remove these layers and the earth
becomes almost invisible,

surely as it must have been when
God laid the framework for first sin.
Are we to take heart knowing that
even He started over once?

It is easy to view the stars
as souls, and if the stars then birds,
some rivers. And if rivers we
might be baptized in each other.

The coffee mugs are always clean.
The muddled bedroom is empty.
God, after this grief, every
I love you feels like goodbye.

© Martin A. Bartels

Norway gunman 'has accomplices'
-----------------------------------------
Martin is a poet, author, artist, and songwriter living in the Washington DC area. He is currently president & CEO of the humanitarian organization, Seed Programs International. His poetry can be found HERE.