Prophets, a poem

Prophets

The Prophets of Profits have spoken —

war must surely come!

All wishes for peace were but token;

now we’re beating the drum.

The lives of a few (or of many)

do not count when we sum;

No, to us they’re not worth one penny

and soon we all will be numb.

The Prophets of Profits have spoken

(would that they were struck dumb) —

we must break what’s already broken;

war must surely come!

Stephen Brooke ©2013

Dashed off in a few minutes, as bits of social commentary are wont to be