Gods of War

Souls sold for
Antiquated crude
As bitter enemies crossed over
Frozen tundra and vast deserts to duel

Quietly does the Dark Wraith of death
Sweep across the blood soaked terrain
And the Angel of Mercy does the like
To ease our fallen soldiers' pains

America's nefarious war in Iraq has been for naught
Many young lives were
Recklessly packaged for this reckoning
Packaged, parceled, and bought

I've often wondered
If the dead would
Protest against the government's lies
If they could

So many lives extinguished on both sides
They breathe no more
Doomed to the cold cauldrons of their eternal sepulchers
By the wicked Gods of war

* Reprinted from 'Exegesis a Decade of Poetry by Mekael' *
© July 14, 2009 by Mekael Shane