Food speckled spittle flies onto zombie-eyed ears as
machina politic spews venomous dogmas from pulpit-like podiums,
Words fall to quiet now, engines rev to ice-boiling hot
while insatiable appetites of steel-tipped, brass chests
...
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Wars and death poetically articulated. Beautiful. Please kindly check my poems HOPE and THE BEAUTY OF DEATH. Kingsley Egbukole.