Old Blood

[Psychedelics_r_best]

Peaceful waves of warmth wash the vision,
Cleanse the fear wreathed in this final decision,
Water droplets running between the panes of glass,
The men flounder between the ground and the sky,
While the blood slithers and the living wait for this to pass,
The tearing of the air and the passing of the clouds,
Passing slowly by wreaths the reason in the shrouds
of the glass beach shattering among the bodies.
And the grease of the guns mixes in their veins,
As the fragmented bodies converge and drain
through the glass
Crawling towards the ocean to release their pains.

And coins caked in fingerprints are put in a jar,
To bring the boys back home,
And stop the warm dilutions of thier bodies on the beaches,
And to bring back the boys from afar the preacher preaches,
To buy a war bond and file a complaint,
To blame the Rooskies and bow to the great,
President of the United States.

As we stand on the bodies in the glass,
Waiting for this time to pass,
We're gonna dig the graves,
And erect so many crosses hoping that
Our little shapes make a difference in the sealed fates,
And we're going to fire up the burners
Until the old blood seals the earth into the velvet of space.

 

[(Wordy)]

Powerful stuff! The last line caps it off really well.

And this section had me wide-eyed with wonder:

The men flounder between the ground and the sky,
While the blood slithers and the living wait for this to pass,
The tearing of the air and the passing of the clouds,

Your poem also reminds me of a drunken conversation about war I had recently with a few friends. I don't remember very much of it to be honest, but at the end of it, I was shouting out, "There is no enemy! There is no enemy!" Subsequently I've tried to write a poem using that line as a starting point, but it hasn't quite come together yet.