Alan Dunnett

Guillotine Blues

We hold our knitting as the edge comes down.
We hold our knitting as the cut heads roll.
They fill the big baskets in this old town;
and we walk the streets of freedom after the poll.

The blood in the baskets is running out
into the gutters and down to the sea.
Everywhere we go, we hear our brothers shout
that we are living and not just supposed to be.

We hold our knitting as the edge comes down.
We hold our knitting as the cut heads roll.
Tomorrow's another day in this new town
and we walk the streets of freedom after the poll.

The blood on my hands is noble and fair.
I know the truth now and I do not care.

with thanks to Arthur Lee

No More Killing

Why didn't we see this coming?
We must take a share of the blame
and act in another way from now on.

No more blindness. No more knowing
nods and unwise caution. I speak

from experience because I could have saved her
although it would not have been easy.

Now the bad weather rises up and shakes the window.
Don't wait till tomorrow. Go out

and put a different thing in place.

Akan Dunnett © 2015