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wind-screen shields
Yesterday's old woman knitting,
to a rusted old wind-screen-shield,
& the torched stranger in corn fields
produces crops none shall wield,
against the killing & the raping
but the flame-thrower of Belial's
against a knight that heralds,
a shield for which for blocking,
but the fields lay ablaze in dying,
and the starving in which eloping,
to those eager to hold on to living,
as hound bouncing glorious beagles,
eat up past boney hands cluttering....
A feast before they too become death.
Copyright ©
RGH Poetry
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