Here comes the sun in all its glory tracing the hemisphere in its slow rise over rubble, but first the tallest steel and concrete dedications to the lives living high while their green shadow casts below over the desecrated. I see bright night light shining blue. I see wide, wild light only high noon. Morning, all day veins are caving under the rubble under the tallest. Here comes the nasty truth, suited in belts clasped with wealth for well being, beating the lies with a dollar sign, until the ugliness of the first story presses like meat into the underneath, under the detritus concealing lives in the dirt with the needles. I see bright night light shining blue in the park restrooms. I see wide, wild light only high noon from the under-bridge, waiting for trains to come crush.
Holed up in a bunker, a soldier dreams that the war is over. It's just poetic justice, a dream for an emerging new dawn.
See, every soldier defying orders, leaves the post and embrace the one whom he was made to think as enemy in his naivety they dance in the no man's land, where they plant a rose garden
With them aloud, let's chant,"Bury the guns fellas, war is a tale told by perverts of the worst kind, just to sell deadly warheads. that **** happiness, book the culprits that make war, allow them not to fornicate truth, blatantly like this, deceive the world , gift turmoil."