With the age of destruction upon our
shoulders, and our angel wings clipped,
we stand stranded without our life
paths plotted a'fore us.

   millions of mouths stand hungry at the
   entryway;holding their hands to feed upon
   the gifts of rice and bread.

Every choice made, we hold with regard,
relenquishing our thoughts and actions.
Smoke and fiery ash bellow above our
battlefields created from our misdemeaning
intentions.

   orphans plentify the rubble left standing
   beneath our feet;groveling for more than
   just the little bits we give.

Soldiers line the field with their grey,
metal appendages reaching toward the sky. The
rain falls red as the floods rise towards,
the centre of the onslaught.

   screams ring through the air, as the bone
   shattering spray of artillery graces the air
   like a thousand arrows finding the bullseye.

The barrage continues as the waves of
pre-meditated peace run through. Never mind the
pieces that lay before them, like a jig-saw puzzle
dumped upside down and not bothered to be picked up.

   shards of white metal heat across the desert
   with nothing left to mutilate;campaigns run
   empty with nothing left to lose.

11/21/2003

Posted on 11/22/2003
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