Awe bored
Fore the hole story
Yet an other
Titanic undertaking
Where the rats no
What we do knot
Yet to know a veil
Sew far
Out too see
When icy masses
And steel mete
Tearing at the sole
As sow many piles of ship
And the reckoning fore the break neck pays
Only too get
To the bottom
Of it happening
Water
You going
Too doo
This poem is about the futility of war, specifically the war on terror, particularly because war is terror. 
By employing the epic metaphor of the sinking of the Titanic, the shock-and-awe, too-big-to-fail means of war give rise to that sinking feeling: “the rats no what we do knot.” The victims of war cannot escape its hell. And wee are all victims of war. 
The purveyors of war, the dressed to kill top dogs behind the lies, re-lie on the discomforting fact that shit floats. Mean wile, they pollute the water hole. Their steal is torn as under. The bind leading the bind, sneakers and well-heeled soles vainly seek higher ground. Their doom is spelled out in their code surroundings, more than they can bare. Their polarized hearts and idol warship dictate their final wresting place. Their dreams are anchored in a fathomless abyss. And what lies, on the surface, exposing themselves: what is dung is dung.
Feel free to browse more anti-war designs and anti-terrorism designs.
