Slaughter at the Mess

A Poem

On this quiet morning

Of impending battle,

Herded into lines like cattle,

We all wait in a full mess hall.

Our unsuspecting murmur

Covers the nervous crackling of dishes

With a hum of guileless tactical wishes,

Cut with a shot... then more.

The kitchen comfort shattered,

A glance between comrades battered

By an injustice preserved forever

In the eyes of the dead on the floor.

Reviews

[Satoshi IroTzu]

Respect, M. Hassen

I feel like young men were round up then shot dead. No one will ever know, no justice will ever reach the hand of a killer.

I feel that "you" made a a peace with the fact that injustice will live, but you`re milliseconds away from snapping and going crazy.

[ReedWrite]

Wow...I know it might sound creepy, but I love this piece. I've done so much research into military the past two years, for my current novel...so this piece resonates for me. The emotion. The horror. The tension. The sense of no safety, even in what our minds and psyches tell us should be safe and normal. Complacency kills, even in the mess hall...yet how are you ever prepared for such a betrayal?
I loved the line: Our unsuspecting murmur
Covers the nervous crackling of dishes

Well done.

[WittyWonka]

There is a hint of helplessness in this piece which underscores the act of violence. I really enjoy the rawness of your writing and how you juxtapose imagery - especially the contrast between a quiet morning and those shots.

[Papaya]

Seems like another random act of violence.
Good poem.

[Jacob Clifford]

I'm not entirely sure what to make of the content, but it's presented in an intriguing way. It makes me think, even if I'm not sure what I'm thinking of.