Forever fighting

to be resuscitated
and then suffocated
once again.

There’s a war going on John
a war,
I shouldn’t be here because I’m not
in the corps
and I’m not even sure what the fighting is for
there’s a war going on John
a war.

And it’s a tenuous link between two
trains of thought or I think it is so
and if I think it so,
so it must be.

When it’s hard to breathe and I feel
hemmed in and the world and its Mother
poor him’
I want to puke and say look
I can’t stand it no more
got to escape
get away from the war,

I’m resuscitated
then medicated
and I have waited so long for
this war to cease
for peace

maybe this Christmas.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.