Rare cancers
\nare not rare in
\ndear old Iraq
\nit appears
\nthe horrid war it
\ncame and went
\nand left us years
\nof tears.<\/p>\n
uranium has a half life
\nin billions
\ntherefore, we
\nmay not be able
\nto appreciate that its
\nonly some 20 years
\nsince it all kicked off
\nand we,
\nnever shall be free
\nits a minutiae
\nwhen we begin to
\nsee
\nwhat people do to others
\nthey play out that
\ntragedy<\/p>\n
the stench of war
\nis prevalent
\nthe world is forced
\nto smell
\nthe blood and guts
\nof many friends
\ntransported off
\nto Hell<\/p>\n
bodies ravaged
\ntorn apart
\nby hellish weapondy
\ninnocent bystanders
\nlooked so dejected
\nplaying our sad part
\nin History<\/p>\n
looking into children’s
\nfaces
\nriddled with strange staring
\neyes
\nstaring in and out of you
\nhoping to realise<\/p>\n
bandages soaked
\nin their blood
\nare wrapped around their
\nsouls
\ndeep cuts a tearful
\ncountenance
\na testament consoles<\/p>\n
none of them
\nthere’s no body
\nwho dares to have
\na thought
\nas to why we act in such a way
\nwhy, this action
\nwas sought<\/p>\n
madness on a scale
\ninvolving infants
\nwho take the vile
\ncontraptions that we fire
\nin anger at each other
\nas our bloody tanks
\ndo rumble
\nthrough the streets
\nwhere such wrath, is dire<\/p>\n
so many were a tangled
\nmass of limb and bone
\ncrushed or smashed
\nlike toys of PVC
\ntiny little “Barbie” dolls
\ntwisted
\nhad they resisted
\nno they were simply
\ngazing thoughtfully<\/p>\n
lying fast asleep
\nblood flowed like
\nrivers
\nthe evils desperate men
\nare prepared to use
\nagainst the unseen souls
\nwho lie peacefully in their cots
\nwhose gentle lives they so violently
\nabuse<\/p>\n
power what is the vilest of confusion
\na classic case of
\nsuddenly being, where
\nit would have been
\nmuch better to have
\njust been somewhere else
\nto have escaped this
\nshock,and dire despair<\/p>\n
but we alas were
\nthose actors
\nin that scene
\nand still today
\nsome of us
\nthe survivors
\nin a land that
\nwas forced to pay
\na land whose History does go
\nback an epoch
\nwhy and how and who
\na mystery
\neverywhere is memory of
\ngood times
\nand everywhere is sheer
\nfutility.<\/p>\n
war for sure
\nis measured in the death
\nof honest people
\npeople who became
\njust blood and gore
\nnow I look across
\nthe streets of courage
\nwhere men fell in their hundreds
\nthey were dads and brothers
\nyes, before<\/p>\n
and I know
\nthe cancer that is now inside
\nof me
\neveryday, it
\ncontinues, to grow
\nreminding me
\nof what in fact had
\nhappened
\nand that any thought of
\nrecovery was now low<\/p>\n
I bleed inside
\nfor all the souls
\nnow lying in the sand
\nwho didn’t make it safely
\nthrough the war
\nI understand
\nmy mother is a beautiful
\nindividual
\nshe looks into my eyes
\nand I adore<\/p>\n
for I can see
\nan angel,she’s an angel
\nshe’s my, angel
\nshe looks with deep set eyes
\nso painfully<\/p>\n
all knowing, she’s all seeing
\nshe’s all thinking
\nshe knows that her
\ndear child is going to die
\nI know of course
\nI feel, of course
\nthe sheer inevitability
\nbut cannot bring myself
\nto now ask why? <\/p>\n
how one day soon my eyes
\nwill be unable
\nto see my mother
\nthey will be, alas
\nwide open, but unconnected to
\nthe life force
\nmy soul detached
\nand away in death’s morass <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Communication at the end of the day when the rivers have turned to blood offers Humanity the last chance before total destruction becomes reality, War is a futile event that claims the angelic ones and is therefore an act of such evil that even Satan finds it remarkable that we keep doing it
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