Moral splinter

In today's Guardian - the paper version - on page 4 of G2 there's a poem by Harold Pinter: 'The "special relationship"'. It appears not to be online, though this is where it would be if it were. Why it isn't online I have no way of knowing but it's protected by a 'Copyright Harold Pinter 2004', and if the Graun don't have permission to put it online, then I'm guessing I won't either. Quoting by way of fair comment, however, I try merely to convey the flavour of the thing. The first verse begins as follows:

The bombs go off
The legs go off

Until the final verse all the lines take this form. In the penultimate verse, we have:

The dead are dirt

And we also have them as 'dust'. The poem closes so:

A man bows down before another man
And sucks his lust.

Well, I'm no poet, but I have here an alternative offering. I've given myself permission to post the whole thing. It goes like this:

Moral splinter

The rape room screams
The children dead
The ears cut off

The tongues cut out
The bodies crushed
The people gassed

The well of grief
The sea of fear
The land of graves

The tortured, nil
The murdered, zip
They do not rate

It ends. The poet climaxes - he shoots
His obscene freight