Of Justice… Of Maudlin Soliloquies

And ‘ere, here, our hearts do weep
From the pen of cold bloodied belligerent brutes,
who,
in bellicosity’s bosom, profits they find.

“Je suis Charlie,”
“je suis Paris,”
on FB posts Tricolors are placed.
WHITE. RED. BLUE. Taking flight in cyberspace

“Where is Aleppo?”
“In Niger you say?”
“So sorry dude. I don’t know where.”

Ignorance.
While the belligerent seek war for trade of arms.
For sale of arms,
with brown cadavers, more dough to make.

The traders of arms, licking their arms.
Sub rosa they deal in savagery.
Efficiently,
annihilate they the cursed,
moving through this maze of life unseen.

A leader in Sirte,
the colonel named; killed with a bayonet in his bum.
“What have I done?” went the doomed man’s screams,
‘ere aloud his failing heart did weep:
“What,
please,
tell me,
what I have done.”

“We came. We saw. You died.”
Caput for a sand nigger who defied.
“Justice is an illusion my friend…
for in gold and not in morals we deal.”

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the images in this piece