Drifting sands in Persian lands and Flattop ships at sea, guards old black gold tis’ bought and sold and shipped to land of free.

The few obscured say mum’s the word speak soft yet carry big stick, the threats broadcast did find the caste who plays by dirty tricks.

Young man strong just went along with calls to arms and legs, cus young men’s calls are never stalled when ask to run the race.

We ask not why we go to die in hands that sell us themes, in waking sighs we just praise guys who fall asleep to screams.

Returning vets most never met the men with veins of ice, yet standing long for unsung songs these men have paid some twice.

We fail to ask the men with masks of what and why and where, we send our kids to land abyss to engage a foe not clear.

With one hand tied and closed right eye we ask they dare not stare, in setting sun they see them run and squint and squeeze cross hairs.

To miss is rare, they’ve claimed a pair of those who just burn tires, internal ‘flares, has claimed the pair ‘twas just two boy’s from choir.

A cleric’s curse is well rehearsed and blames it on desire, to maim the boys who played with toys connected to some wires?

Now tucked away from light of day lays tools of mass destruction, a centrifuge has grown so huge and wants Israel’s subduction.

Some say display is just for play while spinning round the axis, but time is short for such cohorts of truth and timed reactions.

‘Tis practiced faith holds contempt exempt no fines or fees or sanctions, for car boom bangs with toothless fangs have failed to gain retraction.

Absent remorse this Persian horse gives all who play redemption, the men behind such wicked crimes say God will pay commissions.

When spins have made a weapon’s grade plutonium fuel of fusion, the winds of war not seen before will pave their way to use them.

The time will come when everyone will know of Armageddon, these faults exalt occult assaults on mankind’s God in heaven.

In acts of horrors and rumored wars waits chance to be forgiven, in Christ we seek to turn a cheek and place such thoughts in prison.

I pray for days when world can play in ways of little children, where claims of men just filled with sin will burn in flames bewildering.

Michael Chaffee



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Writing with the Veiled…