Pages

Thursday, March 17, 2022

Socialist Sonnet No. 57

 Ukrainian Plot

 

Born of revolt, misnamed revolution,

With hammer and sickle gilding the red

Since furled, yet workers still being bled

In cause of nation set against nation.

History’s managers draw, redraw borders,

Lines of convenience too easily crossed;

Capital gains, but then reckon the cost

In lives of those just following orders.

War is grim work and soldiers are workers

Trained and skilled in the old craft of killing

Each other. Whether willing or unwilling

It’d be better by far they were shirkers.

Of all, such is the very worst of toil

For each laid beneath a mean patch of soil.

 

D. A.

No comments:

Post a Comment