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

 

 

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2018