war

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war is murder writ large
- Carl Sagan

in this wretched trench
i rot like all the other
breathing corpses

sprinting over
no man's land:
piggies for the slaughter

for the politics of rich men
click, click, go the abacus beads

we murder strangers for medals
but when we return in coffins
what will we have earned?

* * *

if both sides
refused to follow orders

how many would be spared?

(untitled) -- a collection of experimental poetry [COMPLETE]Where stories live. Discover now