Plateaus of splashed frenzied poppies
uprooted about your knees.
Rampant delusions dramatic of colour
hard faced delirium, breeds termite high uprisings.
Daddies perfect soldier – Mummies screwed up little boy.
Caught between the battle fields whilst still playing
with your toys.
Strung out whitened daisies –
Sunday’s fervent sabbatical.
Bayonet yourself a Sunday roast.
Give toast to all mankind.
Basement hate spread Belsen thick
Enfield to the head – pull young man your dead…
“If any question why we died, tell them because our Fathers lied”!