Where the war machines

have done their work

pounding in a relentless racket

like a spoiled child in a violent fit

only stacks of flesh and garbage remain

glorious white bones and blackened ruins

worthy of a promotion

and a medal

for those who thought up these wonderful ideas

to boost the profit margin

of the corporation

as beautiful as a plague of disease

is a war with no purpose

something this great has never been done


we need more

of the same

at least that is the industry claim


Or do we need a meadow

far away from the experts

with a stream flowing by our bare feet

lying in the wonderful quiet

that settles over a forest without conflict

a silence only broken by birds

chirping out their love of life

and freedom

away from the clank and clatter

that comes with the machine of worldly wisdom

the sun is warm here

without the clouds of pollution

we are supposed to believe are for our protection

Lives and writes on the plains of Manitoba, Canada…he is an actor, writer, and has also been known to peddle books on his website…www.kelvinbueckert.com