when no mornings follow nights cities lie without their lights little beasts root happily children can live all their fears forests break mountains shake then it’s time again
rockets roar with deadly freight sharp explosions rock the night soldiers shoot graveyards bloom it is war
when scrawny skeletons creep through the streets parents weep dead bodies radiate new death and crumpled shapes spread more disease then it’s time again
the general orders strategic attacks and watches how the metropolis cracks rivers stink battleships sink it is war
when the bakers bake no more bread when the butchers chop off their hands when the doctors’ only prescription is death corpses float in the village pond and supermarkets stay closed 24 hours a day then it’s time again
maybe the ultimate time for the warriors to storm from their heights to the valleys to lance and destroy they also **** women all children are dead the moon is all red the stars are so wan
we are counting the corpses as long as we can
it is war
Written in January 2003, three months before the outbreak of the Iraq War. Somehow, I have a similarly uneasy feeling now, with the new POTUS and all the melodramatic warrior rhetoric, and just hope history will not repeat itself. Historians say it does not, but who knows.... - What happenedin 2003 is the reason we have IS all over the world today!