My existence is bequeathed to me by a blood red sun
the gaiety of youth and the Passiontide of friendship ‘s that have never cost me a penny……..
I am sick of Cosmopolitan indulgent choirs ……………
Our Brave young in wounded hells listening to stagnate sympathies, living in pain unending.
Ugly thoughts where the righteous are forsaken, In hospital’s dorms, universities of the
patriot games, disconnected from all breath of hope.
If I live to be 100, I will never forget the youth of the Somme Ypres and Passchendaele, who
bought me from a sickening auction from under their blood red sun,
as they walked into rapid fire.
The Blood red sun has never set, nor will it ever ..,………….