Charles J. Ingerson


From the sky
raining terror
death to fly
with no error.

It comes at night
infrared to hone
computers to sight
sci-fi on loan.

Weapons of war
now are seen
AC-130’s core
actively mean.

Blistering death
inlaid with fear
no more breath
when it is near.

Tornados sound
in lightning strong
no rest found
among the wrong.

It may not be nice
but war is hell
blood is like ice
from ours who fell.

Don’t tread on me
famous words again
for terrorists to see
our resolve within.