Monday, November 22, 2021

The Number of the Beast is .556 - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Number of the Beast is .556

 

“This is my rifle. There are many like it”

Because they fall off assembly lines everywhere

Probably even in the Khyber Pass

And frankly, son, you don’t need the damned thing

 

A rifle is not your friend; it is a mechanical thing

A rifle is an engine of destruction

It is made for killing your fellow humans

The last one alive wins madness and guilt

 

You never made the first day of boot camp

          (neither did John Wayne)

You need to know what John Wayne never knew:

A .556 disintegrates a child

A .556 vaporizes your soul




A variant:


The Number of the Beast is .556

 

“This is my rifle. There are many like it”

Because they fall off assembly lines everywhere

Probably even in the Khyber Pass

And frankly, son, you don’t need the damned thing

 

A rifle is not your friend; it is a mechanical thing

A rifle is an engine of destruction

It is made for killing your fellow humans

The last one alive wins madness and guilt

 

You never made the first day of boot camp

          (neither did John Wayne)

You need to know what John Wayne never knew:

A .556 disintegrates a child

A .556 vaporizes your soul

 

If you finish recruit training and A.I.T.

And have your orders in hand

                                                then I’ll listen

 

But if you come back

                                                you’ll not want to talk

 


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