rogers monda

The Wounds Of War - Poem by rogers monda

The Music of the AK 47
Solemn and unforgiving
its dancers gyrating their hips
from here to there
leaving a bunch of mourners in their wake

The eyes of a dead man;
glassy and teary
faces dark and bloated
staring into empty grey spaces below
either side of the death abyss

the voice of the rhetoric
sweet and sexy
promissing bliss and a touch of grease to the palms
stepping into the leadership and ordering for more music
oooh sing this song, a cycle

Comments about The Wounds Of War by rogers monda

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 26, 2011

[Report Error]