Poetry / Poets / Writers / Writing

The Soldier’s Fort by Nick Gerrard

Don’t let them drag you kicking and screaming to the soldier’s fort.
With its ornate façade and water-featured gardens.
Inside there hides a different face, locked inside the vaulted lace.
Strong arms force you into one room, one toilet in the corner.
Eight men, eight miseries.
Two tied down, one nappied.
Others full of lice and cuts and sores and matted hair and sun baked skin.
Eight mattresses they share,
no medicine, no comfort,
only water and sweat and screams and forgotten names
and nurse’s threats.
Don’t let them take you to spend a night in hell with no escape, no sleep,
Just a wait for a morning reprieve from the vomit, the stench, the shit.
And so finally after an eternity morning arrives.
Seven wrecked men awake.
They chat over luxury cigars and coffees and drinks to come once the door is unlocked.
Of doing it all once again, and again.
Not I.

 


One time Chef, activist, union organiser, musician, punk rocker, teacher, traveller, eco-lodge owner in Malawi. Lived and drank far too much in 6 countries; travelled to loads more. Love trains, music, books, football, politics, languages, different cultures and food. Written articles on politics, music, travel, culture and food. Stories and poems published in various mags.Two books, one son, one tractor, one eco-lodge in Czech Mountains! His writing can be found at  http://www.nickgerrard.com/ .

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