Friday, December 20, 2013
Stopping A Doctor
I stopped a doctor for the gas victims,
In places a stand was shown to exist
By the largest of the crows that know
Of what his arms were barred.
The canvas drowned a man gently,
Painting on it was the luxury of a day
That was raw, unhealthy and proud.
The hurried men gassed the victims of blood,
Large crowds amassed to cry on numbers
Then in use, for their use was precious,
Obscure at times as well.
To squint sideways was the thinking man,
My breath stained the pride,
Thick with pus is the gentleness of man,
In places where gentlemen were found.