A Modern Warfare by Michael Ashley

like cold shrapnel
he sits all day
trying to scrape together
just enough change
to buy a bottle
of Strongbow,
the pin-striped gods
whistle by
like rifle rounds
from their homes
to offices
where they bet on stocks
for that 6 figure bonus
to buy their next super-car

while we —
the masses
the conscientious objectors
sit in our bunkers
avoiding the crossfire
all tuts and scowls

afraid to look out
on the litter of war.

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