Grimacing, drawn faces hung grimly in densely black quarters
contemplating the trifling banalities of war
A rotting mug sloshing with amber broth - sickly brew
Frost-speckled cheeks and numbing toes
There were intermittent barks and howls
Interregnums of fear - the likes of which
draft with the wind; pricking the nostrils of dogs
who paw the barren earth expressing hunger pangs
Pouncing on fat, waddling rodents under the veil of midnight
There were fools, prophets, messiahs; operating in military guise:
Officers, men-at-arms, generals
Legions of blank slates offered at the altar and
incised with penetrating pigments
Permanent, irrevocable alterations
Tics and repressions - flicks of potential savagery
Tools honed of their own volition
And set against the sentiments of ideologues
We hate the predatory reality
Yet cling to the smoking gun
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