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
