this machine kills (fascists) #3

your snouts were in the trough
my nose for scot-free air
turns up at the traceless slop
you have become

all gone

devoured by innocent greed
your bone and meat your glorious trappings
all that remains is the glinting brass
of your brass neck

© BH, 2025

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This arose out of a writing prompt based on ‘killing someone is easy but hiding the body, now that’s usually the hard part…’ drawn from Richard Osman’s ‘Thursday Murder Club’. I wrote a macabre poem as a result but, later, reinvented it as a figurative murder of fascist(s). God (should He choose to exist) knows we have a whole lot of those these days.

As is my current practice, I’ve illustrated this in three parts - 1 - 2 - 3.