Poeticians

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Poeticians
Never trust a poetician.
Or a poetic judge, for that matter...
I'm a rebel and i will never conform.. listen to my words and watch this conversation transform.. rain on your head call it brainstorm..
wrote this in the car
Sky is black with hazy smog
Sinking over war-torn fields
Fallen men float in the bog
Out of breath ‘til darkness yields
Gunshots echo through the dark
Ringing in the soldiers’ ears
Tears flow from their dreary eyes
With memories of final years
Ranks flood out from sheltered trench
Running, crying to the wind
Charging through the sickly stench
The Bodies of those who had sinned
Soldiers crumple to the dirt
Falling lifeless on the ground
Lying still through dying hurt
Passing on without a sound