Who Is Going To Win The War? Poem by Kevin Patrick

Playgrounds are now times graveyards,
of a distant past.
and ghost of children's laughter
is buried under ash.
remnants of torn swings breeze
in a jagged wind
and even death stands sickened
his stomach turning grim
as dead presidents and generals
are throwing dice to see


Who is going to win the war?



Fragmented limbs of steel beams
of empty cities cry
as Red clouds gather dust storms
of radiation skies
Epitaphs have lost their names
Beneath a moulded blight
No one lives to hear the screams
of infernos night
as four riders stand approaching
of consequences seeds



Who is going to win the war?


and All around the world stands still
to the volleys blows
echoes of the cannons mourn
the valleys of lost souls
the only eyes that are left to lurk
are statues in tall groves
their tears of bronze cast no glance
as chaos comes in droves
and weeds are now the trophies
of the ashes of victory
stillborn nations write their claims
dust paid for their greed




who is going to win the war