soldier of fortune, making moves on the battlefield,
chess checking chances,
Suntzu advances,
as the sun moves and dances.
creeping in trenches, sleeping in shifts,
bullets fly overhead as you hope that they'll miss.
butterflys in the rose fields,
butchered guys in the poppy fields.
broken dreams, decimated teams,
regiments unravelled at the seems
unrivalled scenes that you could never believe.
superhuman movements and medals achieved.
let go and breath, silently amongst violence and tryrants.
No man planned, for no mans land.
The best laid plans lead to mass graves,
massacres last for days, it's hard to understand.
tactics underhand, gas masks steal identies,
you must move fast to counteract the effects of mustard gas
and hidden identities.
popup cemetries, innovative remedies,
death strikes at any moment,
yet it's hard to keep focus.
Don't lose your mind.
Mistakes of mankind, repeated in time.
babyfaced freshmen turn to hardface veterans in the spaces of seconds.
replaced in moments with conscripted kids deplaced from happy homes.
men never found and no chance to atone.
warmongers amongst them that soon change there tones.
railway children leave villages in rubble.
cornered and in trouble as the bodycount doubles.
darknights spent in candlelight
children sleep in there bed as bombers glide overhead.
the bleek reality goes over there heads.
the blitz is a travesty that decimates articheture and leaves structures in travesty.
calamities in the evening and in the morning a start clarity of the destructive reality.
hindsight in bombsites, mortuaries from mortar shells
instructions to give them hell,
you believe them less as each days passes.
bodies piled up in masses, teardrops without caskets.
only dogtags identify the men in the bodybags.
men treated worse than dogs, the living skip over the corpses
of fallen comrades
peace will not come fast. hard to run fast with rations and rucksacks.
bullets start to wizz past as they proceed to fufil dumbtasks,
whiskey in hip flasks. trying to shoot back,
wishing you just get a lift back home to the motherland.
Fighting in foreign lands,
your mother holds her head in her wrinkled hands,
her husband holds her close and hes been there before you.
fought in the great war too and lived through to tell the tale
and ironically see history repeating itself.
a picture of their son sits on the shelf.
he lies wounded in battle, needing there help.
o well.
give them hell.
its just one of many stories to tell.

Nobody mourn,
nobody get hurt

We just project
redirect the blame
and sink back
into interactions
with coping devices
of mass distraction

The artificial womb
of the masses

Tethered by an invisible
umbilical cord
feeding us way
too much
information

Like hungry ghosts
salivating
the next notification

We can’t run.
We can’t hide.
There’s a threat to survive,

But we’re so ******* desensitized

Seduced by the school shooter
we don’t hear him coming
singing siren songs
heart-beating shotgun blasts

That leitmotif
in sync with
The American Horror Story allegory

Just forget it
Too much in the queue
Too many new things

We can’t reject this reality
It’s really ******* broken

Em, I’m sorry we’re descending
Much Madness has lost its meaning

It’s just the means to
unlock an achievement

Emulate another scumbag.
romanticize a villain
amplify the bodycount
Like how many do you need to ***** out
before they give you the cover
of the Rolling Stone?

It's comedically-tragic,
Stranger than satire.

The Judge, the jury
Executioner cutie

cut all your losses for ya
cashed in your lil tax deductions

The most sacred snuffed out
before the light could become them

Get woke a-f,
This is enlightenment!

Come on get
your mind blown!

He’s the one who loves
to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
knows not what it means.
Do you know what it means?