Ukrainian Evidence

It has not been a total disaster.
At least, not yet, the day of reckoning.
The start of a war, and what comes after.
Murders, destruction, hatred, happening.

Exercises, possible precursor.
Show of strength and the potential to do.
On the other side, worried but not sure.
Is it, is it not, inevitable?

Then, from a distance, the loud mouths bellow.
Woken and arisen from their coffins,
where have been laying, drained of blood. Yellow.
The killing of others, they’d been missing.

Their day surely coming, out of the blue.
The disaster, they hope, may yet ensue.

It’s a crisis. Someone will have to pay.
The arms industry will need subsidy.
Will cost, doing what military say.
Big bills to fund war, inevitably.

The sanctions will hurt, but also hurt us.
Tit-for-tat economic dismantling.
Cost-of-living hike, now it’s claimed that must.
The external, insist that factor in.

But the rich won’t pay. They will be away.
On their yachts heading for some safe haven.
And their bloated bank accounts, safe will stay.
From the rest of us, the money taken.

Soldiers, and civilians, pay the high price,
as the rich, from crisis and shortage, thrive.

Again we see it. War. A war of choice.
Straightforward aggression implemented.
Killing made the decided-upon voice.
Excuses for invasion invented.

Maybe to absorb a neighbour, the force.
To not allow it, its independence.
Or, a country far away, have recourse
to attack, invade, rule, unrepentant.

Could be geopolitical reason.
For trade advantage or resource control.
That, thieving; but to crush claimed ‘threat’ say then.
Wills murderous bullying to unfold.

Rightly seen as a crime. Was, in Iraq.
Now in Ukraine. The brute’s chosen impact.

Enjoy the last days before the war comes.
Here, I mean. Already raging elsewhere.
And they’re beating …beating …, the pounding drums.
Pugnaciousness that may into flames flare.

I try to analyse scenarios.
Sort of ‘war-gaming’ from there, in my head.
From most, increased conflict seems bound to flow.
The peace now, I’m thinking, may soon be dead.

There will be a tightening of sinews.
Heavy armour put on, at the ready.
Any backing-down, then, simply refuse.
Obligated to fight. No remedy.

War leader deposed from his driving seat,
might help, but would who’s next accept defeat?

The cost is more than anything that’s gained.
A legacy of bereavement and hate.
A reputation indelibly stained.
No quick fix which first did anticipate.

The gain, some, but is insignificant
set against the losses which are tragic.
Into denial, if indifferent.
Justifications mouthed that pathetic.

But tell those to every mother’s child,
brutally destroyed by bullet or bomb;
or the mothers’ themselves, with grief made wild.
Not have the guts to tell them that was wrong.

Been far too much lost, for too little gain,
if put in the equation, all that pain.

The brand, the letter, Z. Invasion Z,
causing there to be many thousands dead.
Rather than best could be, the worst instead.
To escape war, women and children fled.

Merciless, with Z the symbol of it.
One life after another, the defeat.
Matter of choice, the killing it permit.
Instigators safe in their Kremlin suite.

By them, Z made to mean the end of peace.
Not the last, as bombardments do not cease.
Falls off the chart, as the scarring increase.
Z, the devil’s work. The mark of the beast.

No doubting what can see, and what is read.
In this instance, evil, the use of Z.

Putin’s view of Ukraine, one of disdain.
As a country, not want it to remain.
Made his motivation for warfare, plain.
Have it as a land that Russia would gain.

Used force before, thought could do it again.
Tough and ruthless reputation retain.
Killing of those in the way, feel no shame.
Destruction …‘victory’ …, come out the same.

But not so easy this time. Shared, the pain.
Not say “a war”, but still have to explain
the large numbers dead, and returnees maimed,
when what was pathetic, the little gained.

‘A defeat’, history will ascertain,
Putin’s war aimed to annexe the Ukraine.

Exposed, evidence of atrocity.
Of the mass executions carried out.
Unjust hatred became ferocity.
Thinking wrongly, this what war all about.

But the murders that were done in Bucha,
and in many other towns in Ukraine,
were war crimes, to shame, now and in future,
this Russian rule and army, with the stain.

Bodies of civilians left where were shot,
lying in streets, or to shallow mass graves.
Bullet in back of the head for a lot.
Acts of invader, depraved and debased.

Whether or not, law deal with in future,
known history, butchery at Bucha.

The conflict continues with brief respite
in the capital, the north, and the west,
although still wary of a missile strike.
But in the east and south, there’s more distress.

Unabated there, and it is forecast
to intensify over the next month.
Thousands to be killed by bullet and blast.
At any time, brutality erupt.

Destruction, as human weapons know how.
Death, as if mimicking nature on speed.
Cruelty and viciousness, the war allows.
Do they not breathe? And live? Do they not bleed?

Presents as calm and sane, but a hater,
the war-starter and ‘won’t stop’ dictator.

Engaged in a war with no end in sight.
May think ‘frozen’, but continues, the fight.
Missiles still fly, and then their bombs ignite.
Killings, and crimes, too many to recite.

Talks that get held have no resolution.
Civilians left in fearful confusion.
What has happened, no grounds for solution.
No agreement, there, for restitution.

Only retribution, as punishment.
Not negotiate on that element.
And the lack of trust, very relevant.
Only settle, to other’s detriment.

So, with no settlement would be content.
Hatred ongoing; a lot to resent.

Inside the city of Mariupol,
amazing anyone survive at all.
Heavy bombardments daily, typical.
Just still alive each day, a miracle.

Destructive forces unleashed have destroyed.
Initial plan, no doubt, was to capture.
But with all the missiles that been deployed,
ruins and rubble invaders act for.

Resistance. Held out beneath the steelworks.
In the tunnels there, have not surrendered.
Must feel, their plight, their city, world deserts.
In all likelihood, they will be murdered.

Complete wreckage. Streets of bricks and metal
twisted in shapes of death. Mariupol.