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