memento mori

like fireworks,
the sky is alive.
flares and bombs
as music and we
are the dancers––
locked eye–to–eye
in bloodshed.

we hide like rabbits
in our trenches––“hit
the floor, boys!”––so
bent on surviving (&
little boy, where is
your courage now?)

YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS
YOU! on posters and walls.
but it is murder, not bravery
and our hands are forever
stained red with our wrongs.

“forgive me, father,
for I have sinned.”
the churches have
turned their backs
and God will no
longer forgive––

( he bleeds blaum
for our sins and
paints the sky red
when morning comes. )

we fell like dominos;
a chain reaction of fear
and dread. my heart is
tired of my sins and
my head aches for
kingdom come and
england.

instead of honour, they
should have said “memento
mori,” and we would
suffer no more.

author's notes : all i'm coming out with at the moment is like... crap. ugh. based on world war one & world war two.