No Title Poem by John Fenton Mcleish

Keep moving do not stop
Sitting duck for bombs to drop
Reload take a hit
Flesh wound from shrapnel bit

Over corpses body parts
Torn limbs and broken hearts
Smell of cordite sulphur hell
Stench of death in every shell

Step on a mine legs are gone
Bleeds out screams alone
In the trench feel the thud
Blood flows through filthy mud

In a palace not far away
Bankers sit a sunny day
Discuss the long and short of it
Exchange rate and profit

Count their money ring the till
The taxpayer foots the bill
Smoke cigars sip their wine
For everything's dandy and fine