One Ancient Measure
One Ancient Measure
I rise with an effort
known only to those
who follow in comfort
their subjective goals
using one ancient measure
the dead piled in rows
and there lies a treasure
that only God knows
the deep roar of thunder
in riotous rhythm explodes
from on high lighting under
the flood of the rain on the roads
the dead and the living are walking
together with righteous regard in their eyes
and their timber-toned talking
is mixed with their tortueous cries
war is more than the hell you pass through
below and above dripping blood after blood
apocalyptic visions of the darkest new are due
a septic condition for one's own revisionist flood
Copyright © Tom Mcmurray | Year Posted 2011
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