THE BALONY OF AN ART

[Eva Libre]

 

 

- Denis Gadfly Muwonge

 

 

He lies down in the bush

on the Beautifully green grass

That matches the colour

Of his Military Fatigue

 

Besides him lies

His M16 Machine gun

And what seems to be a

One tonn Back pack

 

His eyes are partially open

His lips are widely parted

Exposing his gnashed enarmels

That are red by colour

 

Tinny dropplets of blood

Drip down his mouth's corner

Making you immagine

A puglist without a gum suit

 

The two tiny red holes on

The left side of his chest

That look like the devil's eyes

Confirm the worst to you

 

Some where a poor mother

Has lost a very dear son

And a deeply in love woman

Has been left a widow

 

And for some little kids

Life will never be the same

B'se Dad the family Pillar

Has gone early a tad

 

And when you look yonder

He has not fallen alone

Some are even still kicking

The last bit of life out of themselves

 

Many are just Headless Torsos

Others have lost Limbs

While many have holes that

cats can squeeze through

 

Yet the way they have fallen

You cant tell a foe from a freind

They are just but fallen soldiers

Whose bodies liter the battle field

 

And some one some where

Tries to sweet coat this

As the art of war

Insteady of Balony of war

 

And yet if the two Players

Using these here men as pawns

Could come to a compromise

Many a life would be spared

 

We sh'd always find a way of

Talking things over a cup of Tea

On a round Table with every one

Having an authentic smile of their faces