War and Butter
All these weapons that we produce|
Is it not like; butter?
I am sure you know?
Butter gets rancid if stored too long!
Well, I have an idea!
Let us invent some enemies,
Paint them with the color of hate
And drop some bombs!
But not in my backyard of course!
It must be far away in other lands,
Where screams are silent.
And just like butter, weapons used
Makes room for more.
It is really clockwork:
Gold bullion for the profiteers, and
Workers get paid.
Copyright © 2013 - k.b.harris
Published: 3/28/13 · Author's Page · Next Poem