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Road-maps and Bombs


Why do we reside between War and Peace?
Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, rockets and bombs
While flesh and bone swim away from the ache
that breathes as the food for murder.

We hide behind holy books as if they tell our story
While death finds home inside our breathless living,
as War dispatches its ravens to our doors
and our excuses smirk with the teeth of faith.

Why do we wait, stooped for another glance,
The arid drapery tossing down evidence
as War finds breath outside of any motive?
(Road-maps are useless to bombs.)

Why do we hold revulsion hunched in the gloom?
Hatred’s animal howls with our bereavement.
And our bending bodies rightly quenched
When we fill our troughs with blood.

Come, Peace, rise up with Love and Kindness!
Don’t wait for desperation to spread its misery,
Bring all War down upon its damnable knees
and shatter its howling in a final thunder!

© 2014 Mark Richard Prime

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