this will be a re-run

it’ll be the comfort of the saturday afternoons of your childhood
sat in front of the TV with bread and dripping
watching John Wayne set the world to rights with a gun
it’ll be Kenneth More on tin legs reaching for the sky
with a re-mix of stirring music Vaughan Williams would kill for
it’ll be a tearjerker in the final reel
where you know the hero’s going to die
but his girl will remember him forever
it’ll be you me us being the good guy
rescuing the damsel
putting the planet back on its axis
making sure all is well with the world
popping down the pub for a half a bitter
and a sing song
saving blighty for another day
it’ll be black and white
it’ll be clarity
it’ll be mom dad fido eternal happiness
everything you could want for a shilling
cowboys and indians
bang bang you’re dead
but just till tea-time
beans on toast and final score
the magic of the FA Cup
granddad checking the pools
shaken and not stirred
it’ll be bombing Syria by the end of the week
it’ll be nothing like Libya
it’ll be don’t mention Afghanistan
it’ll be Iraq again
like we did last summer
it’ll be fiction
it’ll be make-believe
it’ll be tears before bedtime
it’ll be bombs not strategy
it’ll be innocent victims
it’ll be refugees
it’ll be bombs bombs bombs
not strategy
it’ll be black and white
it’ll be clarity
it’ll be mom dad fido eternal happiness
it’ll be Kenneth More weeping
into his pillow
this will be a re-run.
© Steve Pottinger 01 Dec 2015


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