war, by Charles Bukowski in A small but passable life.

war

war, war, war,
the yellow monster,
the eater of mind
and body.
war,
the indescribable,
the pleasure of
the mad,
the final argument
of
ungrown men.

does it belong?

do we?

as we approach
the last flash of
our chance.

one flower left.

one second.

breathing like this.

-Charles Bukowski