The desolate landscape scarred by war lay dormant

Two ditches carved into the barren countryside

Razor like wire sat majestically in-between the two trenches

The decayed remains or noble men hung off it in strips

Brown soil painted a dark scarlet

And green, green grass speckled with spots of ruby

Puddles of stagnant water and gold lay on the field

A man laid, defeated by agony, with gold oozing from him

His jewels were failing as his eyes turned to ice

A metallic rattle sounded

The highly explosive pellets aimed at advancing ranks

The thud of pellets against flesh and bone

Spots, drops and puddles of gold were flying in all directions

Silver and platinum pools were forming around the mass of corpses

One fatality lay with half his thinking cap hanging out

Its silver surface gleaming

He was not the only one

Death would not mar the charge for victory


A ruthless murderer stood facing his office window

The pale lime walls stained yellow by the smoky haze

His broad frame wore an expensive suit

A sack of money sat on his mahogany desk

Victory in the First World War had led to a bonus

As he greedily shook open the bag

A pool of dark red liquor emerged on his desk