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
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