Man-I-Cure

Man-I-Cure It is 1918 and feet from the trenches require a shake up Rotting and drenched by blood across enemy lines they Shout ‘Peace’ and ‘This was the War to end all of the Wars’ A pedicure that is although amputated limbs have been Discarded by the wheel barrow have found a gravesite even Though not all are buried alongside their own bodies attached Does a soldier’s cross rest upon limbo or on ultimate reprieve? Faces blown into pieces require no makeup when cerebral Matter has vanished alongside with reason a shot in the dark Fortunate ones have their wedding rings taken from lonely fingers Sent home as a message of a final farewell to weapons and arms Bewildered by chemical distortion some blind are leading the blind As they march quietly back from the front to an uncertain future Who won this battle with whom was it lost and for what purpose? In the mascara parlour of gas masks floating on poisonous vile air Egos Require treatment as modern warfare rages on in contempt of mankind Will a ‘Man-I-Cure’ ever be more than a cover up for assault on our strife? 14th April 2018