Hearts of Iron ©
North Yorkshire, England
I am here in flask of human sorrow
floating on a river of vain ambition
with the wind of death against my sails.
Craters for open top graves under a blanket of sliver
the whizzing of the bullets
creating a melody of chaos with a background envied death.
The blood of the ravaged dead trickling out
forming a red weed that squirms and snarls to clang of metal
and the clunk of wood on wood with the raking
as men roll on the floor with rats.
The perverted fear of violence puts a smile on every face
it's all just bits of paper and hearts as dark as smut,
well look out pidgins, look who's down here.