Prosperity and my unlit candles

i know, the title is a bit obscure.

It is in every peaceful moment's
paradox i sit

in quiet solitude
for gracious war's
impatience with the rude
who on solemn love might spit

but for war,

I meditate in perfect
holy peace

the dead, the buried

their imortal souls released

bespectacled in silver tears
i weep for the unstoried boys

who sing our anthem
in bomby bulletiful
brisk baked noise

They die for me -- of course --

so i might play
with plastic war-ish toys

Then sleep deep in paradox's

tender grip
until awakened by soft wet kisses
from soft red lip

Thank you war

for such sweet peace
enjoyed by we the undeceased.

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Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.