Hostile Homilies Poem by John Sensele

Vanity is that peacock
That flaunts peevish plumage
Suffering sapience insuffiency when a clock
Ticks off its privilege pillage

In a global gregariousness
Too tired to tinker
With war withered recklessness
Whose clinker

Spews ashes that crush
Sane soldiers too weary of fighting wars
In which rash rush
Calls

For a ceasefire when a foe's ire
Unleashes untold misery on families
Whose desire
Steers away from hostile homilies.