we are riven

by moronic memetic ideologies

mesmerized by new tribal drums

dancing to the old music of the trenches

us verses them

stand to! all ye faithful

they may suddenly appear

grey shapes emerging from the mist

bayoneted fixed

violence will eventually consume itself

industrialized violence

will take many souls

leaving more to wander lost

searching for the lives

they should have had

the corpse churned mud of Passchendaele awaits

unless we

wake the fuck up

Copyright Michael Douglas Scott