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Adam Gunnoo 2017

World Games

Thunder Storms,

On the bottom of hordes of marching stamps,

Blinding lightning, a beacon of light,

Shoots off sleek, refined gun metal


A weathered commander, faced with

 death, horror and

A cause?


Booming cannons, shooting for distance,

Metal cigarettes filled with gunpowder,


Rhythmic heartbeats of our brave new children,

Shit, piss, ammo, faith

In their burning lust to see families,

Friends and lovers,

In anything other than burning nightmares,


Dark collective impulse,

Disguised in formal operations,

‘Murderer’ hides behind a camouflage uniform,

Trained and engrained,

Inside every wide-eyed boy is a roaring lion!

We want You! You! You!


To protect rosy-cheeked sweethearts,

In the land of the free and the home of the brave,

But that land can’t be free,

And home is only an idea,

For as long as the brave keep their blood unspilt


The Angel of Mercy has stood unknelt

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