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Don't ask me to write about butterflies

 

Don't ask me to write about butterflies,

There ain't enough of 'em round here to

Stick on a pin. Heavy engineering has

No taste for butterflies, too concerned

With steel, aluminium and iron billets. Metal

That can be hung, swung and rolled under

The hand of man to become fearsome

Machines of death and wanton destruction.

 

Don't ask me to write about flowers, there

Ain't enough of 'em round here to fill a vase.

Heavy engineering has no taste for flowers,

Too concerned with gun turrets, giant trucks,

And tanks. Machines made to roam the

Earth firing a million rounds a minute, and

Woe betide any flower that gets in the way.

 

Don't ask me to write about the wonders

Of the woods, we did for trees long ago.

Bomb making has no time for birds, bees

And bunny rabbits. Launch pads are what

We need, bigger bullets, bigger bombs

And bigger missiles. Point 'em anywhere

You like, raze your enemy to the ground,

Nuke anyone and everything you don't

Like. Bring the world to its knees, crack

It wide open, and have done with it.

 

Don't ask me to write about charity, there

Ain't enough of it round here to buy a bible,

And who needs a bible, when you can take

What you want by force. Stealth aircraft are

What we need, spies in the sky, armed to the

Teeth, ready to take out anything that moves.

Don't ask me to write about butterflies, I

Haven't seen one this whole year complete.

 

© Joseph G Dawson
12/06/2021 and earlier

 





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