WAR
The day of life begins again
with words of our Saviour who art above,
who wants the world to remember the days of yore,
when they all sit and wait for you to come
and get them out of their holes
in the ground and bring the useful tilting
mechanisms of light back. For the world is one
and that is why they fought,
to heal asunder the world’s woes
and understand that there is no listener
like peaceful peasants and they know it is
about righting the wrongs of deadly nerve agents and not
the world, but the fur-coated
numbers of their peaceful changes called the rights
of man and so it is they do not feel
that you are midst but between them,
as they fill in the old tired wounds
and felt-tipped bodies
as the unicorns arrested for the work of their
times are being held again
against the used works of mankind.
I wonder if use is all they plea
and wonder again if it is about time
they asked for it, the work to end
so they can begin again to feel that they
have come apart at the seams of your
book. It is about time they wanted some
more type-faced heroes but
there are none, just soldiers who kill
and do not know why. I want to give you the worked examples
but they do not know who is the hereditary yeast
and who is the strong-minded.
I want to fill your hands with sorrowful
love for the men of the first brigades who
died for the country in the world
of British Army hats.
And brigands
of the world unite and cause mayhem
again to start the world from fighting like
that again. Start the war and you will find
it hard to survive the fight again
Monsieur Trump, and so it is they cannot
begin to understand the useful period
of light against which they ask
what it is about them that makes
it all so good and negatively-facted,
with the works of deeds and not
the works of man and woman.
I want to see the lights of Chicago
not the light of New York, since it is in Chicago
that there is muslim-felt presence and not
the starting of war, again. Now understand me well, Charlize,
it is about you I fight now
and I want to find the youth
who is strong enough to fight me
when I know the rules of engagement
so well that they cannot stand the work
I do, for they are all about to
find it is about time that they
went to bed. I am your poet, not they
and that makes it your way forward
and not theirs and so
I ask
will you marry me again
in spite of the sorrows of the world.
Let us bring joy unto the hearts
of many by being happy about
our loves and our lives lost
bidden held here against our will
by press-agents and their lust for glory
and so it is I ask when will you understand
that it is about time that you knew
that war is about sex and not about
plunder and over-felt.
Your friend
Bruce
