1 min read
Слушать(AI)Fight
Red drips from my chin where I have been eating.
Not all the blood, nowhere near all, is wiped off my mouth.
Clots of red mess my
And the tiger, the buffalo, know how.
I was a killer. Yes,
I am a killer.
I come from killing. I go to more.
I drive red joy ahead of me from killing.
Red gluts and red hungers run in the smears and juices of my inside bones:
The child cries for a suck mother and I cry for war.
Carl Sandburg
Carl August Sandburg (January 6, 1878 – July 22, 1967) was a Swedish-American poet, biographer, journalist, and editor. He won three Pulitzer Pr
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Iron
Guns, Long, steel guns, Pointed from the war In the name of the war god
Stars Songs Faces
Gather the stars if you wish it so Gather the songs and keep them Gather the faces of women Gather for keeping years and years
Murmurings In A Field Hospital
[They picked him up in the grass where he had lain two days in the rain with a piece of shrapnel in his lungs ]Come to me only with playthings now
I Am The People The Mob
I AM the people — the mob—the crowd—the mass Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the world's food and clothes I am the audience that witnesses history