The war machine is hungry

its pressure valves whistle
a tortured mechanical whine:
oil my metal heart with blood
grease my fleshy gears with guts

so we

feed to it the carcasses of thousands
fill its iron belly with wholesome
murder

butcher a battalion on the beach
slaughter a division by the river
massacre an army in the tundra
more food for me

Still, the war machine
hungers,
it hungers
I Hunger for more

its pulsating pistons sing
in dissonant harmony:
it's not enough
it's not enough

so we
feed to it the meat of millions
maybe it'll stop

.

(what have we done)

.

a freight train hauls
its breathing cargo from Warsaw
to the Auschwitz abattoir
to cure them with cyanide gas
like pesticide for cockroaches

a great atomic fire
microwaves the city;
its impossible heat
scorches a silhouette
into the broiling brickwork

the following morning
humanity awakens
to nothing

but black rain

This war machine is hungry

its blood-oiled metal heart drums
a rhythmic, monotone chant:
more more more more
more more more more
feed to it the bile of billions
feed to it the whole damned world
choke it, clog it, kill it
make it grind itself to a screeching,

screaming

halt.