War Dance

AR-15s frolicking their butts off.
The happy song of the bayonets.
Gates of paradise ground open by grenades.
Claymores bouncing,
bombers headspinning,
bunker busters diving
into the earth. Such joy,
and all because
we’ve allowed them to play,
pushed them into this abandon,

clucking like chaperons standing around
just to be defied,
recalling how we once did this
with our own cave-roughened hands.

“Kids these days,”
we chuckle,
forgetting for the moment
that we made them.

“In our day, we did it
up close and personal,
and we never wiped
blood from our hides
until we were sour
from the smell. 

They don’t know
what they’re missing.”

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Tags: , ,

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: