The poetics of mass murder (version 2)


It bellowed with soul-hollowing cool

through weatherman, high priest and blithe fool

There is an Evil that hates us all

where great Good is struck by Godly call

to conquer Darkness, sunrise or fall…


Answered with a wild bombastic calm

on steely kisses flown street and farm

There is a Good that can do no harm

carried wide by the lip-splitting charm

of the Brotherhood, gone arm-in-arm…


Sung aloud on hills of blood and gore

but which authored on a further shore

A poem stands behind every war

its true home not yet alive, unsure

a world of fewer people, not more…


Scream now with a victim-settling score

Only bad poetry goes to war

neither an all-or-nothing God nor

peoples disembodied to the core

has seen more Evil than Good withdraw…


So pang with earthquake fury incessant

The world trades borders on futures present

Good-looks looking spoilt, fleeting, unpleasant

in the eyes of poets incandescent

wax-working a hyper-waning crescent…

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