Poetry

The Sun Is A Gun

By 5th December 2006December 9th, 2019No Comments

Death and then i open my eyes,
One day seems long in hours; can i live a whole life time
Where the bullets fly forever? (Feather in the wind),
Stoically the old man with the grey beard walks onward,
Unscathed by barbed wire, unfazed by bombs… his cane leaves no marks in the mud,
He is time and barely can i see him now.

Is this some sick dream or purgatory?
Time has deserted us and no eternal reward will persuade me to wait for the morn’
Battles only happen under a blanket of darkness, to hide guilt.
There is no true dawn, there is no true dusk,;
The sun is a gun.

Peter Drakeley

Author Peter Drakeley

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