fire parade for the dead
flaming torches in scattered line held high
crowd shouted back behind a safety line
celebrants, ministers officiate in stripes
dressed darkly to intimidate memories of war
red suited stranger rides along devil's tails
splitting gonads for laffs and noise spitting
arc light ahead of spent charred bullet case
screams evoked. stifles laughter as the smoke
evokes the War in mud so here : sticks are rifles.
over amplified comes over as cod eulogy flashes
the ears while sincerity plays out the church gate
we stand flickering eyed
"Feed the World ..."
"Turn it off, Harry"
Peace after a slowed to halt drum
Torches squared parafin trickle
air with smokey wax and uncertain
light that makes black to meet
poppies burn by the church gate
plans broken into an atrocious
conflict of split fuses sputtering
orange stars into painted skulls
burning splints takes cordite's place
making the air like thick magasines
filled with dum-dum bullets. homages
to horror waiting for the drum .
the parade moves starkly on