Charred remains, of jungle burned:
Fire steeped, laotian leaves.
Who we lost, in what we earned;
For the love of ******,
Of sweet release.

Korean craters, Mexican invaders, &
The Boxer rebellion.
The sinking of Maine, the panamanian strait;
Meuse–Argonne, inherent freedom

Is there a place, for the peaceable to congregate?
Versailles, Geneva, Nuremberg, Tokyo.
What point to rules are made,
When no one follows them.
Bagram, Mai Lai, Tiananmen, the Chechen genocide

Is it merely in our nature;
To fight, and argue, divide?
We can conquer, but can we conquer
The lust that is
The love of tribe

A sign of desperation
Of envy, of misery, of dejection
Of hopeless yearning for nothing lifelong,
As almost everyone can barely notice.

Worldly desires, oh futility!
Images of true vainglory
Captives of fake reality
Stuck in their reverie
Of exaltation and flattery
Fishing for praises so badly
Insensitively, so unrelentingly
Without a thought or two.

What do you hear? What do you see?

These people sound so thirsty
Of approval and regard and dignity
Capricious predisposition, tomfoolery!

Looking for love and delight
For honor and respect and might
For grandeur and luxury
For anything but worthless beauty,
For a way not to be left behind or aside.
What a surrealistic find!

Amuse me; let the world drool for thee,
But like a century-long malady,
Such an absolutely incurable affliction
It is nothing but merely, purely,
Just as trivial as this poetic entry,
**Vanity.