Poems Submitted by Our Readers

From the roar of the plane
to the clamor of the train
from the beating hammer
to the factories clamor

From the mighty fire, comes molten steel,
molded into instruments, their object is to kill.
Come on there my pretty fools
get back there with your tools.

We have to hurry, you understand,
to shorten the life of our fellow man.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, you stupid imbecile
these machines  will cause a nation to fall.

We will fill their bodies full of holes.
We will rip out their very souls.
Kill, kill, kill, and you will not be at fault,
from the smallest child to the oldest adult.

Tear and rip and smash to bits
every form of human life.
Rip the flesh from every bone
destroy the happiness of every home.

And when the sound of hurrying feet, has all died out
I will arrive by your side, with a victorious shout
and take you by the hand, you have done your mission well
and take you with me, for your reward, down to the very depths of hell.


Bill Bridge