Thurman P. Woodfork
Folks may think the act of occision
Can be done with nonchalant precision
Not realizing the frights
That may permeate their nights
As the result of this fateful decision.
It’s a definite fact, to be sure
hat it’s very difficult to inure
The mind to the strain
Of ignoring the pain
It inevitably must endure.
Oh, some march off cheerily to war
Revved up and totally cocksure
But they’ll eventually discover
Mars is a most demanding lover
Who’ll suck them dry to the core.
So, they watch the years slip on by
While trying to ignore ghostly cries
Calling out in dreams
Punctuated by the screams
Of friends as their turn came to die.
‘Occision’ is an obscure word for ‘kill’
And you can fancy it up if you will
But come the ‘perorations’
Of the politicians’ orations
It’s you who’ll wind up with the bill.
©Copyright April 1, 2005 by Thurman P. Woodfork
Submitted for the April 2005 IWVPA Club Theme Project, “Occision”