Poem: Coiling Engine

Teeth-like cogs,

Churn along with might motion,

Into the void,

This endless commotion,

Shall continue,

If commerce shall,

Get its devotion.

Sparked to life,

Shuddering along,

Metal crafted,

By something inhuman and wrong,

Making weapons from money,

And crimes from mistakes,

And soaking more in blood and sinew,

Than anyone known by me—

Or you.

The crack of fire,

Along that barrel true,

Plunging a bullet,

Into men like you,

This is what we asked for—

Progress at all costs,

And firepower,

Louder than anyone’s voice.

Soak in brine,

Bloody spines,

Cracked along the nerve,

By bullets made,

In that churning,



Special thanks to: Collin Pearman. 

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