25 May
The lust for war 
is skin-tight & as hemoglobin to bone--
turning poets into preaching prophets 
politicians into potion preachers
children into cheapened chattel
soldiers into senseless slogs
intellectuals into inflated idiots
conservatives to corny connivers
liberals into leaky liars &
the right into the wrong.

simply because war is a blood poison
and war is psychotic chaos,
a familiar imp that smirks
at every easy solution
posed by poets, preachers, philosophers &

this resident devil refuses to be bought off
by an affluent culture of convenience
whose minions glibly say,
"Just turn the place into a f**king
parking lot" especially if you-know-who
flips us the nuclear bird--

So what shall I be turned into?
nothing more than what I am:
one whose eye
can see the smirk in the mirror.

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Posted by on May 25, 2021 in Poetry


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