The Fat of War

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War is war, when war changes war;

unlocks the room, and opens the door-

for the fat of an animal, is like the very fat of war;

raking up those dead, is but its routine chore-

war shakes hands with it’s very core;

unearthed by miners, like a stained man’s ore-

looking at the face, is like looking at the fake;

smiling faces wear the faces of the slain;

echoing forever, like a conscience of the brain-

you can not stop, what floats in air;

an invisible killer, underneath dead stares-

guns bought in hordes, in the name of the war;

piggies, off greed and air, with their snouts they doth snort-

fog flooding air, flooding lungs;

poison air;

safeties switched off, weapons as hot as weapons hot;

soldiers like key masters, unlocking closed doors;

then pawns scraped from off the board, and that’s the fat of war…

Copyrightcopyright April 14, 2014

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