Barren Earth. Poem by Graham Jones

Forsooth, these are such tainted times
Of blackened hearts, and acrid climes
Where men at war in battle be
What hope for future, do I have in thee
Nor did I see in fortunes bold
A world of pain, my blood runs cold
Utopia was to be my thought
Not fire and brimstone, a world now caught
Within a circle of disruption
By mans own hand, his own destruction
Forsake that not, which could be thine
From lessons that are passed in time
Mankind needs peace, for what its worth
Is nought if all is barren earth.