Which faith, believed, these half-martyrs
The one, which seeks, manhood’s valor
To die for, be, living horrors!
When men, measure men, in gun powder!

A dogma, of few, brittle minds
Which millions, bear, with pious pain
Behold this face, which still reminds
Life’s worth, more than, jingoism vain!

Do deify, these grisly Gods
With jawless mouths, and eyeless holes
And never learn, from suicide-squads
“Death’s Glory, Flaps From, Wars’ Flagpoles!”

Do gape at, faceless, nameless men
And gauge the omen, at doom’s door
“Our Relics Won’t, Outlast, Amen!
The Broken Façades, Of The War!”

© 2018 Vikas Chandra