Prophets of Doom – a poem

I wrote my version of Bob Dylan’s Masters of War.

Prophets of Doom


You who build all the guns, you prophets of doom.

Who trade in missiles to make your market boom.

Who stuff bombs with nails with deliberate intent

To rip through the flesh, create misery and torment.

Despicable in every way.

Scum of the earth,

Architects of misery,

Filth without worth.


Opher – 28.11.2018

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