Dread Necessity

like a knife I believe
with steely acumen I concede
machine was born of
necessity.

thousands crossed fields
of blood stained blades
of grass to meet machine
made destiny.

sighs of smoke as an
opium dream
exhaled by machine
meting out a
metal end to
hungry men,
lonely men,
courageous,
and dirty
loathing men.

every hand that has held machine in
war and famine
of any fashion in
pall abandon-

like a knife they believe
with steely acumen they concede
machine was born of
necessity.

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