Sticks And Stones Poem by Ryan Brodesser

I don’t know what land our battles that man will man fight on
but the next world war will be fought with sticks and stones
And I know not what our conflicts will dawn
But we will fight, with clubs, and chew on our neighbors bones

all together, and and all apart
corruption and death tugging apart sanities seams
terror and death will do it’s part
and blood will run like sanguinary streams.

all I know is death hovers like a cloud
and bombs fall like rain
until naught remains but remains in a smoky shroud
there will be naught left is pain

that mushroom cloud hovers overhead
it is our symble, the of men
not many will be left to count the dead,
and none to help reseed the world again

forests will fall in sodden heaps
cities will shatter and stone ground to meal
smoke will rise where fire leaps
until all man is melted like a smiths steel

so cities will burn, and empires rise
and we will fight with guns, bombs and drones
we will fight on, ignoring the drowning cries
until eventually, we will fight with naught but sticks and stones