White Phosphorus Poem by Aidan Cost

Nay to the peacemakers, rattle the cage of creation,
Skies weep tears of oil to mourn the siege of a nation,
The media bangs the war drums, Manufacturing consent to rally,
Fuel for the deathmachine and fresh bodies for the tally,
While ageing rulers hold the gates of hell open for the young,
They hedge their bets on obsolescence; the robot wars have just begun.

Nobody has ever dared to mow their lawn with white phosphorus,
Commited genocide and then preached about intolerance,
Nobody has ever dared to mow their lawn with white phosphorus,
Just to play the victim because that would be preposterous,

Yea to the decision-makers, power to the shareholders,
Victory is theirs to win, but their loss is yours to shoulder,
Autonotroms antagonise misanthropic misery,
Like pages of a manuscript, opinions are facsimiled.
When the rivers run dry, and the air's too harsh to breathe,
The last one to remain will be crowned with a laurel wreath.

Nobody has ever dared to mow their lawn with white phosphorus,
Auctioned their democracy to a selection of conglomerates,
Nobody has ever dared to mow their lawn with white phosphorus,
Embedded hate within our hearts, so it's easier to conquer us.