a poem by Geoff G. Turner, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

Oil, oil, bubble and toil
I wonder how much more blood will be spilt on the soil?
It doesn’t really matter how much is spilt today
The wind and the rain will wash it away
And mother earth will reclaim that piece of earth
In time for the next sacrifice, how much is it worth?

With helicopters and planes patrolling the sky
They’re not there in time to watch the soldiers die
At the hands of an enemy, who has learnt really quick
New ways to kill and make the population sick
With a car and a suicide and an explosive stick
And every day a body bag and a revamped old trick

And it doesn’t just stop with the troops on the ground
Because what comes up, will eventually come down
An RPG, it’s so easy, aim and fire if you please
Watch the bill skyrocket when a Black Hawk nests in the trees
And with the heroine of the war now very displeased
You really have to wonder, is this cure meant for this disease?

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