Chambers of Death

 

     The duel,

Makes liars and cowards of each,

Sends us brave into quarrels bold of design,

     And it’s very perplexing but oh so fulfilling,

Killing the gospel, for shilling and fare,

     And we’re -

Daring the speak of the masculine soldier,

Not wanting neither the truth or the falsehood,

Battling the conscience for doubt or for ego;

Scanning horizons of blood,

For the paradise we’re sold.

 

     Glory is glory

But not for a brother,

Not for a man shedding tears of sorrow,

For as much as we try

We will always falter,

For the duel becomes demon,-

For the bribe of a soul.

 

And we do what we can

Believing the world may get better,

But the lust for blood will always

Counter our youth,

     And it’s disgusting

And wholesome and privileged and

Hollow, to believe we make

     Difference,

While the corpses of children

Lying dead in gutters,

Speaks of corruption

And violence in government quarters,

Where sleep is afforded

To the ‘don’t give a shits!’

 

     And I’ll tell you my friend

How we dupe one another,

Bragging friendship together

In times of war,

     For justice and truth

Reckons only the guilt,

As deceived are the brethren,

Of forgotten tomorrows,

    

     And this duel we bare as we

Justify all we have promised,

Creates monsters of men

Deep in their heads,

     Where the duality affords no man

His freedom,

Just madness to conjure

And murder some more.

 

 

Michael J Waite 23rd August 2016.