The mind
Tantalised by terror’s
Rubber stamps
Every violence,
Every incident,
And brands
Every normal madness
As terrorism
Born to our physical place.

And to the runaway dream
We add our angers,
And we rage
To do something against
The foe
And created,
The anti image
Of our own
Disassociated face:
A glad enemy
For us to fight.

And so we go
Hot headed,
The blood
Of foes
To be let,
Our minds coalesced
In agreement’s
Blind conditioning
To go
And enthusiastic
To the next
Terrible war
Of mistakes.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015

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