Machine Gun Victims

Machine Gun Victims

A Poem by Matthew Bass

The intersection 
of a third world market: 
An insurgent, and old man 
a woman, or a child 
broken under dawn; 
sloppy pools of 
bone and flesh. 
What they never saw 
will never see again 
under the terrible 
orange sun. 
  
  
And the machine guns 
continue to laugh 
day after day 
year after year, 
like background noise.

© 2012 Matthew Bass


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Added on October 6, 2012
Last Updated on October 6, 2012

Author

Matthew Bass
Matthew Bass

St. Louis, MO



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It´s funny how we think we are all on the cusp of something, and just have not been recognized yet. I am no different. I don´t really care all that much, but at the same time I do care. .. more..

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