Poverty of War

Bring me peace and luxury, frozen in a bowl,

Mix them with reciprocity, eat up till you're full.

A dinner made for kings, wilting then to idle,

Grand sized golden rings, and brides whom they will fondle.

My worshipped lord, my King of Kings,

If ever were to reap all things.

Then want and greed would run its course,

As swiftly as a stallion horse.

And pray do tell where knights will ride,

Like rats in holes, the poor survive.

A dollar is one mans dinner, another up in smoke.

Spend your money wisely, or off to be the joke.

The wallets full, lets play the game,

While poorest of them all they lurk in darkness and the shame.

With night comes black, with night comes sin.

The morn not but a shoulder to rest within.

I’m tired, I’m tore, midnight moon hence marveled me once more.

The wolves will kill, the dogs will eat,

Even their young instead to starve the keep.

But man has gifts of nature's heart,

Its rhythm beats, and plays its part.

For serenity and silence in the future looms,

As we fall and falter into the tomb.

Or maybe with a glint of hind sighted gift.

Mankind’s continuance will mercifully endurly sift.

And join the races of the planets far, deep in outer space,

Light-years we will travel, finally cultured by another race.

But as they say, first of home,

We take good care of where we roam.

And gentle tides, will float as sweet.

As peace on earth from war down to the city’s very streets.