War.

The kings are now gone,
And the bugle blowers unemployed.
Decades of rust has gathered on bloodied swords,
They are now rendered useless.
Canon balls in a corner like ostrich egg fossil,
Immobile. Ineffective.
The bloodshed is now remembered in catalogues.

You are relieved, because the wars have happened in the past.
Branded horses no longer tread city roads,
Drinking water at their enemy’s courtyard.
The corpses have long decomposed.
The world is at peace and
The land stands divided.

You are relieved. It has all happened in the past.
But you fail to see reality.

Blood spurts out- cynical ink flowing with unfazed fury.
Peace and pacts and feats and facts.
The wars still happen everyday-
And the bloodshed is easily soaked up with blotting paper,
So you don’t see.

Branded horses no longer tread the city roads,
Because they have been replaced by aerial supervision.
The skies are full of twinkling satellites,
And seeds of destruction breed beneath the land.
Eternal conspiracy circles inside glass doors and rises up the chimney.

And you,
You feel safe believing the world is at peace.

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