Flanders fields frantic insanity
Boys directed in interlinked sewers.
Motionless corpses stinking
Those drawing breath doubt any future.
Zombied children from towns and villages
In a hell where serendipity refuses to exist
Fear the nearing thump, thud of mortar shells
As if giant footfalls – approach to stamp out life.
Hugging slimy bespattered trench walls
Shell shocked minds tremble by the second
A last prayer again, while shaking hands light the cigarette
Bladders gripped tight in response to the sergeant’s whistle.
Over the top
Means run till you drop
Many dance the head shot backward slip
Their mighty screams lost to the living
Fierce, rifles crackle bullets indiscriminate of pain
flaming thunder flashes explode
Everywhere in horrific un-patterned regularity
Once dearly loved ones have their lives ripped out.
Within a few hundred yards
Screams of the dead and dying
Bodies spurting crimson, limbs flail
So many fall in spontaneous curtsies.
Machine guns wreak their steaming havoc
Barbed wire shivers while the Generals swagger stick
Roughly counts the losses. Heavy guns tear the fabric of air
Sixty pounders seek infantry replacement columns.
Each new marching sapling soldier
In terror learns the meaning of futility.