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Max Reno

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Member Since: Jun, 2007

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Mud war
by Max Reno

Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Max Reno
•  END
•  Sequence
•  Big Hero
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•  Strange Beings
           >> View all 19

Yesterday I was a man,
now Iím a poor body
gnawed by the jungleís worms
in some place of the earth.
My skin was white
my skin was black
my skin was yellow.
Now itís like a rag of nothing,
hanging from rusty nail,
steeped by pus,
nibbled
by filthy beasts
and my poor soul,
if she exists,
now will be wandering
in the moist jungle,
yelling her damníd anguish
to a blind & deaf god.
War is not a bullshit
for the gunís makers
who make love
with their ritzy whores
in comfortable mansions,
sheltered from ugly death.
War is nice for them,
of course.
So many bombs so many dollars,
so many guns so many dollars,
so many tanks so many dollars.
But if you saw
unlucky beings be burnt
alive
by streams of napalm,
if you saw
the other guys
revenge themselves
like mad dogs
on other beings
groggy for breakdown,
then war is not a pleasant business,
but a damn disgusting thing
which breaks souls & bodies & balls,
stuffs the dry mouth
with a lot of foul mud.
Mad human fate,
allow me to rise
from my putrid grave,
to go back among the happy men
and to reveal to those sons of bitch
the tragic meaning of this crudeshit

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Reviewed by John Flanagan 4/21/2008
Another exploration I find stimulating and worthwhile. Well done!
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