New War
you say.
We're under attack
so prey,
upon our enemies
who would trade the world
for the roar of twin `turbans',
the promise of the good after life.
New War
you say.
We've suffered the first strike
but now it's the dawn of a new day.
you claim.
What about
Bombingham?
What about
Black Wall Street?
What about White sheets
that covered white faces
before black feet?
New War
You say.
But there is no such thing
for born veterans.