Cannon Fodder

Money Money, Money Money, Money Money, MONEY,

Some coming, some going,
but mostly, it's just the same.
You get them stacked, a bunch of them,
They, just knock, them down again.

Now the end, of another year,
All eyes, are on the Dow.
They load the breach, pull the rope,
We're used, as cannon balls now.

They bounce, us down, the hill,
To the "enemy" we will kill.
Soon to be, hanging our heads
so many, men will fall

Gathering speed, in underbrush,
Bouncing up again,

There in my path, looking up at me,
Half a man, with a grin.

Now we know half of nothing is nothing,
So we ask "why did we fight"?
We fought because two guys said,
The two guys, down the hall, on the right.

Who are they, those two men?
That's only a coat closet on the right,
Those two men, who officed there,
Were the first, to give up the fight.

Reviews

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

this was an engaging satire that opens to numerous interpretation. i think living in modern society most people feel that they are being used, like cogs in a machine, with no one truly looking after us; being dehumanised, or as you say, treated like cannonballs, as our overlords sit back lazily. it's a grim poem, but it's a grim reality. this circus of a world indifferent to the struggles we face.

[D. Mansfield]

Thank you for the review. It seems mostly what I write is "grim" I try to write happy, it doesn't work.