no armistice for the war poets now
and now the war poets fight their final battle,
in a world aflame in chat and chattel.
there are too many of us in the tumbrel now,
that we steam like cattle, you stupid cow!
on the way to slit at slaughter, and how
what aught have been a bright new morn,
is now forlorn, forlorn, forlorn.
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