War
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i wanted this poem to fatigue the tongue when read aloud
war is about as far from love as you could get
selling flesh for oil... who's price is certain death
who'll kiss the faceless orphan void of hope and limb
war, the eyeless ogre, blind to the fires of the sin
war is about as far from truth as you could get
two jagged sides to a hazy story often leads to a bloody mess
who'll dry the widow's tears, when her futures' crushed to death
war is about as far from compassion as you could get
war is about as far from earth as you could get
poison bombs pock the ground to steal flowers from their bed
who'll comfort mother earth when poison severs her breast
war is about as far from virgin forests as you could get
war is about as close to soulless as you could get
mindless pounding the humble village with mindless bullets
who'll shine the crown of the elders when sanities lost its head
war is about as far from humble as you could get
war is about as far from fruitful as you could get
who'll tend the docks-till the fields-toss the net
who'll suckle the children-tend the ward- build the building
who'll tend the mosque- the church-the temple on the mound
who'll spin the merry-go-round, when the spinner's in the ground
war is about as far from God as you could get
who'll tend to the dead when everybody's dead
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2018
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