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 & politicians 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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