Cobalt Issue 26 - Twisted Nostalgia

A JOKE YOU'VE
HEARD BEFORE
F E L I X V A N O O R D T
An Englishman, an Irishman, a Welshman and a Scotsman all walked into a bar.
They lingered and stuttered until
they were offered
A cramped booth right next to the
door.
They shuffled and stumbled, laid
their uniforms bare
And tattered on the edge of each
chair.
And they strained as they sat, and
shrank into themselves,
Like rats who shelter 'neath
bookshelves.
Exhausted and shattered as they
were,
Each sound they heard made all of
them stir.
A mad drunkard's shouts made the
poor Scotsman cower,
His eyes shot down, his expression
turned sour
As he thought of men chained to
ivory towers
Whom medals were thrown at for
abusing power.
The Welshman froze as a car's
engine purred;
His chest had tightened, his vision
blurred.
He muttered a prayer but forgot
half the words,
He knew there was something
about a blackbird...
The Englishman stared at a small
group of friends,
And mourned the men he saw
meet their ends.
His mind was then dragged to
foreign lands
To see those he loved make final
stands.
The Irishman likewise relived that
day when
He saw how lead can break iron
bands.
Watched souls and souls escape
bodies again
Like pellets of sand in a small
child’s hands.