- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Face of War
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Gray clones stare into the eagle snake eye of Doubt,
too scared to move, too scared to breathe,
shadow hands caress the shoulders...
...air smells like stale blood.
The face of War
is a singular metal geopolitical Byzantine mask of Shame
of Doubt
of Fear
of Hell.
Cold gray soldiers drunk on the cannibal blood of Victory
eat meat of prisoners
choking on dust
on smoke
on Thought.
The tanks crawl across
the oil-spilled, mud filled Hell of broken souls upon the metal wood chains spike hammer wheel-of-Death.
Children scream in pain,
impaled for crimes unknown, uncommitted, unborn.
Parents dying, mothers crying, brothers lying.
The War of the Truth...
