War Water

The suitors court with a peacock’s flare

Offering gifts to the Gods of war

They tug for their affections just as

Fervent babes cling to their mother’s skirts

Thirsting for their breast

To quench their parched lips and

To rain blood down upon them.

They wish for an insurmountable taste

Of a victorious battle cry to pierce

The cold sky amidst the clang of steel

“Glory and Gods be onto them!”

Glory as they crave the hail of bullets to find fleshly covered homes

Glory to the families they must end

When “Good men go to war.”

Where is the honor of stitching screams

Back into the mouths of rubies?

Is there honor in whittling the lungs of the young with

Tar and spikes?

Enforcing fellow man to die for threat of country

Has much honor when it is a ghost

When men go to war, it is rarely good but just

When men go to war they pine for turmoil

They elevate the fancies to romance and

They pray it does not give birth to their death

In the end, they happily marry war as

They rest in a dirt cold marriage bed