A Poem of sorts, to the medieval warmongers who decieve their fellow citizens in the service of a foreign power!

THE RAIN POLISHED COBBLED STREETS OF BERGEN

I woke up this morning, and there were no mushroom clouds casting their ghastly shadows over the valleys and mountains of Laksevåg.

No killer rain pouring down and dissolving the skin of screaming children;

only the never ending grey, cold, Bergen drizzle, polishing the cobblestoned city streets.

Haakonsvern was no grotesque firework display, and Bryggen, no smouldering heap of rubble with the stench of burning flesh.

And Oslo? Berlin? Paris? Kiev?

They lied to us, AGAIN!

Our elected representatives. The European Vice-ministers for USAs foreign interests: “Rock Solid” Jens, Resolute Anniken, and Odd Roger the Dodger.

Painfully irresponsible, subservient echo-chambers for a dying imperial mad house.

Speaking the deceitful twinned language of the forked tongue; one reserved for insulting the intelligence of those they should serve, the other to reap kudos from the ones they really serve.

They took us to the brink, willing to tinker with the latches on the Gates of Hell, to please the Emperor Nero in his house of White.

But the emperor and his acolytes stand naked now, in their shameful, guilty embarrassment. Their lies revealed for all the world to see. We must never give them another chance!

The never ending grey, cold Bergen drizzle must continue to polish the cobblestoned city streets. For our children, and our children’s children.

RESIGN you regurgitated medieval mongers of war! elected mercenaries bereft of all integrity; your time has come! And GONE!