War- a poem
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Read the poem here.
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(I wrote this poem when a teenager. Nothing seems to change,
and lessons are never learned.)
In the hour of the present,
Destination takes its flight.
Souring into no man's land
On a guided missile site.
Phantom demons- on horizon,
Bearing down on charted dell.
Robot soldiers with toy machine guns,
Labor in the choking hell.
Tainted men in self-confinement,
with minds of cluttered waste,
Contemplate unrealistic haste.
The sheep of blinded multitude
grazed content within the field.
Rejecting all prophetic omens,
Dogmatic principles their safety shield.
And the sickly grotesque monster
Vomited his disease across the land.
Retching death and doomed destruction
Upon the lives of ignorant man.