(Dedicated to the American Shrub)
In the kitchen of mystery the lamps flicker,
In the smoldering battle field soldiers lay in bunker,
It is not that you chose to be insane,
It was perhaps
The sufferings of the holocaust,
That made you writhe in pain.
Hiltlers and Mussolinis still patrol the lanes
as Churchills and Roosevelts have all been slain,
Will the sun and the moon become witness to another war
That looms large on the desert,
Will the mad men ensure
That it would not cause global hurt and hatred.
Will see many friends killed and betrayed