Oh! Let us find our no man’s land
deep within our soul.
Just a moment’s fleeting peace
even for one day.
Feeling the futility of constant war
mustard gas mist lingering like madness,
hatred, fear, despair stoked by desk generals,
rulers of but dust – egg timer imprisoned,
carving pal’s battalions into race, religion, class.
Like a crazed Biology tutor
dissecting a locust,
as we slowly evolve
into twenty-fingered cyborgs
quickening our movements
into our own Galaxy or Apple of Eden’s Fruit,
our third eye now just a screen,
for now only the blind truly see,
snowmen who show more compassion
slowly melting in the heat of constant lies,
over the top once more my friends.
Shelling ceasing – exploding petals of death
no longer falling like rain,
churning men into mud
devoid of God’s breath of life,
so walk with me
take my hand.
Finding eternal peace once more
as we march into no man’s land…
MC Bolton, Christmas 2016