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R Arora Apr 2016
The world's a battlefield,
Or the battlefield has become the world,
Men brawling under the influence of an obscure boss,
Oblivious of the priceless loss.
Ego is that boss,
The consequences of which can be too gross.
Wars are bad,
The motive is sad,
But still they do happen,
Only to leave several worlds shaken.
None of the parties back down,
All with a frown.
So well armed,
No sight of any fear of harm.
Ego is not worth fighting for,
That is for sure.
Is it not useless, I would say, on the contrary,
To fight for something so temporary?
Lives are torn apart, amigo!
Just because of this little seeming word:
I was going through a few old manuscripts when I found this. I had written the original on July 8, 2015.
Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
It all started with a big mistake;
I’m here to tell it was all a big fake.
Fred hit Kelly in his great big mouth;
He said he caught Kelly at his girl’s house.
Rosie was jealous of Fred’s main squeeze;
Said she always does what she pleases.
So, she cooked up the story about her.
And Kelly never knew a thing either.
But that didn’t stop the fur from flying.
I tell you the truth, if I’m lying I’m dying.
The mood changed in the old hangout.
Everyone stuck around, nobody cut out.

Everyone was gathered for birthday cheer.
You know, some pool and some beer.
Nobody knew about Rosie’s big lie
Or what kind of crap would soon fly.
They just laughed and cracked jokes;
Enjoyed some legal and illegal smokes.
And when the mood was sufficiently jolly
Rosie quietly took Kelly out into the ally.
Said she saw Kelly go into the house
Fred started fuming, calling Kelly a louse.
He went back in and he smacked old Kelly
And followed it up with a shot to the belly.

While Kelly was reacting, Fred purely raged.
He wasn’t quite done, was not even assuaged.
But Kelly’s girl Lydia heard what Fred said
And smacked Rosie up side of her head.
She started screaming that Rosie was a liar,
And then there were two more irons in the fire.
It was two women and two men slugging.
The Fist City Express started chugging.
Mirrors were broken by costly pool sticks
The bartender finally got tired of the tricks
And got out his baseball bat and stepped in.
Rosie ******* up and hit him on the chin.

By now, a customer called nine one one,
And the end of the brouhaha had begun.
All four of the combatants were busted.
And the cops finally decided they trusted
The regular customers who all insisted
That the bartender not be arrested.
It might be good to say it was a big shame
But fights in bars are the name of the game.
Especially when women fight, it’s a show
And bystanders in bars always let them go
And then cheer and some even take bets.
This is how selling alcohol to fools often gets.

— The End —