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

I'd like to hear from you...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.