|
Plodding on through the sucking grey mud |
|
The carnage fought, oozed by trench war clay |
|
That in springs past sprung not a single bud |
|
For fear of more death or total dismay |
|
Though shells may plow clean the fields |
|
Burning the crops and mauling the mud |
|
The wind brings only death from a vat |
|
Fertile by cold blood a young man yields |
|
Innocent yet mangled in gruesome combat |
|
Spewing blackest bile the gas claims one more |
|
Cold death comes creeping through the trench |
|
If not by shells maimed or crazied long before |
|
A cloud of mustard takes half of those deployed |
|
Ghastly faces peer back in black or hues of grey |
|
The grandiose arrogance, victory as agony intent |
|
Lifeless by the commanders that them did betray |
|
The mindrape of the spectacle of dehumanization |
|
Viral god wields his festering scythe of gangrene |
|
By endless flashes of mortar or the cadaveric stench |
|
Ghostly faces peer through the veil of celluloid |
|
"Creeping like a snake from a can |
|
The slithering stench of yellow death |
|
Chemical flame of decay |
|
Burning skin and intestine |
|
Regurgitating the bloody guts |
|
Spewing last life from a wretched soul |
|
Live for life, kill for all that is wrong |
|
He drags himself to safety" |
|
Death in the Perimeter |
|
Where furious endearment once was cradled, |
|
Crippled by crossfire, but firm of will |
|
Live for life, kill for all that is wrong |
|
He drags himself to safety, |
|
Death in the Perimeter |
|
The need to bleed to gain a yard of mud |
|
Plodding on through the sucking grey mud |
|
The carnage fought, oozed by trench war clay |
|
That in springs past sprung not a single bud |
|
For fear of more death or total dismay |
|
Burning holes in his battered back |
|
Eyes and mind leaning on the fair horizon |
|
But his heart drowning in trench war clay |
|
Fertile by cold blood a young man yields |
|
Shredded by barbed wire |
|
Screaming shrapnel, incandescent hail |
