I’m fed up with Prague, Paris and progress
It’s because I feel like a lonely boy.
I could sweep aside the art and crafts for the day,
pick up my manlier toys,
in an hour of need.
~
Years later I may grow up,
guns in hand.
Yesterday’s fissures show up honourably
on TV, and I may one day be called to fix small arms symphonies
in lands where tyrants trail newly won streets with
glistening gold-plated depleted uranium hypocrisy
~
If they should come close to hurting you, which I could never bear
With titles and a message, or anonymously
I’d stockpile shares everywhere
and raise forgotten silos, for you
in our hour of need,
What’s more, dear
this sniping threat …
I have learned we live more than exist
~
For brief respite we’ll hire those brave, gifted folks to close down this travisty
suspend the dream-merchants
so we can perfect our progeny
(permanence, is, after all something)
in this, a dark hour of need.
Oh my darling if you would understand just what it takes
to cling on to that last noiseless sigh of power,
to be devoted to all
which will revoke all the old failings
which will enable a better way of equipping
someone to watch for us, with both eyes wide,
as the lesser hand counts round, and again
and inevitably strikes
war
© Copyright David Bosworth March 2014
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
I’m fed up with Prague, Paris and progress
It’s because I feel like a lonely boy.
I could sweep aside the art and crafts for the day,
pick up my manlier toys,
in an hour of need.
~
Years later I may grow up,
guns in hand.
Yesterday’s fissures show up honourably
on TV, and I may one day be called to fix small arms symphonies
in lands where tyrants trail newly won streets with
glistening gold-plated depleted uranium hypocrisy
~
If they should come close to hurting you, which I could never bear
With titles and a message, or anonymously
I’d stockpile shares everywhere
and raise forgotten silos, for you
in our hour of need,
What’s more, dear
this sniping threat …
I have learned we live more than exist
~
For brief respite we’ll hire those brave, gifted folks to close down this travisty
suspend the dream-merchants
so we can perfect our progeny
(permanence, is, after all something)
in this, a dark hour of need.
Oh my darling if you would understand just what it takes
to cling on to that last noiseless sigh of power,
to be devoted to all
which will revoke all the old failings
which will enable a better way of equipping
someone to watch for us, with both eyes wide,
as the lesser hand counts round, and again
and inevitably strikes
war
© Copyright David Bosworth March 2014
This is an oldie I wrote 9 years back but thought needed air
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