I look around and all I see
Is blood, blood, blood.
Blood on city streets,
Blood on desert sands,
Blood where people eat,
Or throng to watch rock bands.
Blood in places close to home,
Blood in far off lands,
Blood from bullets, blood from drones,
Blood on guilty hands.
Fingers pulling triggers,
Detonating bombs,
Ghastly death-toll figures,
Bad as on the Somme.
Everywhere I cast my eyes,
Blood is being shed.
To my left and on my right,
Folk are dealing death.
People doing evil,
Who think they're doing good.
But what do all their deeds achieve?
Blood, blood, blood.
22/11/15
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem