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A poem set in the first world war in the trenches. War is sometimes glorified. I am not so sure. The protagonist is bored and very low.


The smell of metal, and sunken eyes caked in dread.

Corned beef tins playing Russian dolls.

Gaps in your teeth and your rotting feet.

A quagmire of defeat.

Go away Manby!

The smell of metal, it bothers me.

Phallic shaped clouds, and mushroom shaped helmets.

Every dawn is dusk, and every dusk is dawn now.

Blood and bowels mingled together

Go away Manby!

Dark grey clouds are kinder than the sun.

Childs limbs hidden in trees like blossom.

The projectile vomiting of my dreams.

The worse day.

Go away Manby!

I dream about beds and soft lilac flowers.

Clean fingernails and mother's best china.

That khaki bothers me more than your striking white teeth.

Lies hidden in the dark with rats

Go away Manby!

Inspired by a man I once met.


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