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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> War >> ID #1620141 |
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SILENCE CONDONES McEMPIRE'S DRONES ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ McEmpire's Dollar menu Serves up fast kill - Who'll pay the bill? Spent uran'yum? - Small watts; big ill. To store, or sell? Makes heavy shell. Blasts through walls well. Recycled hell. Deployed now, swell. The order's passed Flash fry their ass. The scorching flash, Such menu class: Crispy critters! Some sauce? Must ask. Breathe toxic gas. Eat here? To go? Death swift, then slow. Too late to know the drift; winds blow a toxic flow, through lungs, where go the silent blows to genes, thus sown such seeds of woe. Fallujans know. War profits grow, Health defects show. Yet who will know how was bestowed this plague of glow? With press in tow; Truth's shaft - sans bow. Sick Vets soon go Six feet below - More graves to mow. Their health care dough Becomes ZERO! Life's value: Low. We watch the show; Caught in the flow. Too few say: NO! To war we go, Safe status quo Lets madness grow. This shadow foe Now strikes a blow. We've sunk so low. We make no row. No threat we pose To leaders, those Who send the drones that bomb the homes In target zones. Crushed fam'ly moans. While killer clones Just count scorched bones. Silence Condones!
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