Who Holds The Blame? By Danny Kemp


Was anyone watching in 45 when all was given peace? The dead had given their souls away for the living to find release.

For forty-five years, a bomb held the day, with the brave holding fear. They cherished that threat and now, although hidden, still hold it dear.,

In 89, peace was tried again as a wall crumbled and fell. The boastful, forgetful, self-righteous West laid blame. The Eastern Block fostered all that was ill.

Russia found commercialism discovering freedom of speech. Wars found other places for its desolation to reach.

War is wrong but followed by those who have no rational thought! The wastefulness of chaos is the lesson that is taught.

Righteous democracy preaches guns, power, drugs, influence and worse.  Unfashionable humanism is a disciples curse.

Will man kill man until extinct, or will thought be the first to die. Which version of a truth is to be believed, do only militants speak a lie?

Religion is a pursuit of interest in all its myriad ways. War is a religion, where lies fill the communiques.

The dead charge a small price for souls, the living pay more! They survive in a world where the truth is a festering sore!

The human mind is selective, it remembers truth when the day has gone. Politics is evil, it’s not the man with the gun!

© 2015, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.


About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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