Warpath

The time that set the teeth on edges Clamped to grit the whip-cracked jaws, Sprung the trap on mice and man, Drove a stake and honed the claws Of greed fatigue in Trojan wars. The net sinks deep, it slowly dredges Through the silt of basal bed, No choice of kill, kill what you can As cardboard fairground targets bled A visual plasma of the dead. Dumbly striking knell of dying In the fields where culling gagged With reek of pig swill and disease, Hours slithered, daylight dragged When toes were tagged and bodies bagged. Midnight mass was nought but sighing, Silence reigned when voices died And fires flickered in the trees, The road was raised and opened wide, The eyes of heaven cracked and cried.