Confession of a Coward: A true anti-war poem

What is that you do not sow,

But still from nowhere it grows?

Just a couple of cute little hoes,

And your life becomes a gummo.

 

No boy, you haven't been to war,

But your mind has stocked the hoar;

For memory is a dynamic whore,

From the lores it fills the holes.

 

It's okay, you couldn't fix the caulk;

All the mates incinerated, but you scored.

You escaped, till now you're sore?

A big blue naked angel that you adored,

Took you upon her soft belly to shore.

 

Yeah, they partied before the gore,

And you, philosophically​ a corpse;

Lied on the floor, killing all the glor,

Whilst you snored, the crew sworn.

 

A drawer burning out of the door,

Smattering blackout and then nor,

You took little gasps, just four,

Then that naked girl, mon amour!

Almost twice your size, you wore;

You held her bare sharp belly in core,

Sweeped you away from that mor.

 

You saw ship blown up by a bomb.

Your eyes were sour and you roar.

 

The sky turned all yellow in flames,

Big girl turned all red, and you maim;

Clenched her bosom, insurance claimed.

By Jove, what a jolly good game!

 

~ Inspiration: Waltz with Bashir (2008)

 

For more of my content: Instagram

1 || 2