words don’t kill people, weapons do

by Louisa Adjoa Parker

and words rose from his mouth in the midsummer air

and fell on the people, the crowds who were there

the way raindrops this summer fell on parched land

and plants unfurled leaves; these folk held raised hands

and he shouted the words as flags swayed in the breeze

because the world had its eyes shut, wasn’t able to see

and words settled on damp skin as folk danced under sky

and words swelled like a river, cold green rushing by

and words took on new life as they filled those young hearts

with righteous anger and the folk played their part

as they listened to music on a Somerset farm

and the world was offended and went up in arms

and bullets sprayed from the hands of young soldiers with guns

like confetti on folk as they queued in the sun

and they tore through tired flesh and old hearts and young bones

and they ripped worlds apart, and they ripped apart homes

and bullets came flying so thick and so fast

into starved people, grey ghosts from the past

i don’t know the hearts of those women and men

but those bullets killed children, and parents, and then

there was no washing or wrapping or burying the dead

but packs of stray dogs who seemed far too well fed

as they feasted on corpses of mums and their kids

and the world turned away, shut our eyes, and we hid

and the words from one dreadlocked man on a stage

rippled out causing anger and red-faced outrage

boy should have stayed silent! should have stayed in his place!

in a world where some speak freely, yet others can face

violence or murder, rape, oppression or death

from the moment they draw that first life-giving breath

those words he chose are not what i would have said

but he spoke, i believe, from his heart, not his head

and words aren’t always literal, as most activists know

words can be metaphors, pay homage and bow

to the people before us, who dared speak the words

that nobody liked, who used them like swords

of course, words can hurt us, when our fire starts to dim

they can break us and shake us if they find their way in

and of course, words have power and carry the weight

of oppression, racism, violence and hate

and yes words can inflame hate, we know that fact’s true

and sometimes they tell others bad things to do

but words have more meaning, in this upside-down world

than the murder of children, newborns with wet curls

and bombs fell from the sky in the stifling heat

on the innocent folk who want peace, and to eat

and to live lives like we do, their family whole

go to work every morning, feed body and soul

and bombs destroyed hospitals, doctors, and trust

churned up dry soil, turned the living to dust

and bombs rained around women as they laboured to birth

new life amongst death, when life was a curse

and bombs ripped the flesh from too-small days-old bones

and mothers so weak, their grief was a moan

from the parched mouths of women who aren’t allowed food

can’t feed their children, yet still pray for good

i hope that those words which rose up in warm air

from the mouth of one man whose heart made them flare

bright and crackling and loud like a fire in the dark

and made us forget the true meaning of art

will swell into a sea, and we’ll finally get

that words are not everything, no matter the threat

it’s the actions we take, killing humans is wrong

whatever the reason, let us sing that old song

and the words will keep going as they fill jumbled minds

with passion, or love, we’ll relearn being kind

we’ll remember those words came from love not from hate

yes, words can be brutal and make people irate

but the red-faced what-about-ery and the how-dare-he-say

is a distraction from truth, an intelligent way

to divide us and rule us, get us baying for blood

when all we need to remember is nothing but love

and we’ll remember the music from a Somerset farm

how the world learnt a lesson as we sought peace and calm

how one man shouted words as flags swayed in the breeze

the world opened its eyes and could finally see

this poem is dedicated to all the human beings affected by war, conflict and genocide, who have lost lives, limbs, loved ones, homes, communities and homelands

Author statement about ‘words don’t kill people, weapons do’, by Louisa Adjoa Parker

I wrote this poem after Bob Vylan’s controversial performance at Glastonbury Festival 2025. I do not support the calling for any individual or group of individuals’ death(s). I’m a writer, poet, and inclusion consultant, and I’m committed to equity, justice and human rights for all humans regardless of ethnicity, faith, or any other characteristic or identity. Bob Vylan have stated that they, like many artists have done, used metaphorical language to protest about the genocide in Gaza and were calling for the dismantling of a violent military machine. I am not an expert on all the things this group has ever said or done. I am not an expert on the complex history in the Middle East or antisemitism or Islamophobia (oh wait, no one asks about that one). I do not know all the nuances involved in antisemitism or Islamophobia and may well unknowingly commit microaggressions towards these or any other oppressed groups. If I have done so here, I apologise for that.

This poem is based on a snapshot in time, during the heat-baked, turbulent summer of 2025, when the blackberries in the UK ripened too early and humans appeared to be even more confused than ever. For too long, because of a skewed narrative in which resistance against violence appears to have become worse than the violence itself, like many, I have been afraid to speak out. We live in a time where many are more afraid of saying something wrong than doing something right. Writers are here to bear witness; I can no longer stay silent in the face of such horror nor live with the knowledge that the UK is complicit in this genocide. It is unbelievable that our government, media and some of the British public appeared more incensed about the words that were used about death, than the actual murders of thousands of innocent civilians, many of whom were children. I wish for peace in Palestine and Israel, Sudan, Ukraine, and all countries affected by conflict, war or genocide. I wish for peace, too, in all our hearts and minds. Thank you for listening to my poem.

6 things you can do if you liked my ‘words don’t kill people, weapons do’ poem:

1. Sign up to the Red Line for Gaza – charities including Oxfam and Greenpeace have come together and created a simple template to help us put pressure on the government to stop the attacks on healthcare in Gaza. It’s super-quick (takes about 1 minute): https://redlineforgaza.org.uk/

2. Continue to donate money to charities if you can – research which feel most likely to provide actual support. We know aid isn’t reaching the people who need it as we’d hope but there are many on the front line doing their best. I sometimes donate to Medical Aid for Palestinians, & many children’s & other UK charities are currently helping.

3. Speak out/protest about what is happening – if it is safe to do so. People with Jewish, Middle Eastern, Muslim and ethnically diverse heritage (and other marginalised groups) may not feel, or be safe. If you are relatively privileged, and can speak out, please try.

4. Challenge the skewed narrative – it is extremely skewed. We don’t have to be an expert on any history of any group of people to recognise human rights injustices or the morality of killing innocent civilians, women and children.

5. Share this poem and other resistance art with family, friends, and those in power. Sometimes art – poetry or songs - can reach people on an emotional level, even if we have become desensitised to the violence we see on our screens. Follow the artists who are speaking out and share our work.

6. Support my work – creatives and freelancers are struggling in the current political and financial environment. Follow my social media accounts, share my work, and if you wish, donate at: https://buymeacoffee.com/louisaaparker

With love, gratitude, & an everlasting hope for peace,

Louisa