Poem: When Eagles Fall Asunder

When Eagles Fall Asunder

"Eagle one, to Eagle two!" the chopper radio cried,
As a squall of engineered perturbations flutter across the sky.
Entrenched within, were many callow men, summoned forth to serve,
And upon command, by libertys hand, they ascend in their reaping bird.
Yet, beyond stoic smiles and indentured hands, linger sobering tears to cry,
A solute of horrors, the solvent death, entombed together in leaden eyes.
For such engagements, whether explicable or not, have no transition back,
And upon payment of freedoms toll, with missiles away, unilateral is the attack.

"Eagle two, to Eagle one! the chopper radio cried,
As a whisper of engineered perturbations flutter across the sky.
For lightning came this morning, without warning, sans thundering sound,
While the eagle soared, stalking the outskirts, of a rudimentary town.
Yet, despite stoic pleasantries, the foe found was a lad around the age of ten,
And as the reaper wailed, the earth made immolate, all that remains gives ghastly grin.
But how should a lad, a benighted youth, know who or what to believe?
Indoctrinated, thus unknowing, of concepts from a fiefdom free.

"Tango Uniform, Tango Uniform!" the chopper radio cried,
As a whisper of engineered perturbations flutter across the sky.
For these, immemorial occurrences, eagerly demands the riposte "fight for the cause!",
Yet retrospective enlightenment, so bitterly invokes, the wrath of a critics pause.
But forgotten is the world, so inherently lovely, observed by mankinds eye,
And notions (like capital, ascendancy, and ideology) only seem to divide.
Allowing the justification, ever so rational, to traverse the many subservient lands,
While the winds of thunder, begin to sunder, even the leagues of sand.

"Today our fellow citizens, our way of life [...] came under attack!"^† the radio cried,
As distant engineered perturbations flutter across the sky.
Yet libertys lads sit, so snug at home, in reflective uncertainty,
For in the coming months these lads, so young, could be indentured by sovereignty.
But if such moments come, such tender moments, who of them will feel proud or brave?
And shall they embody the reaper sword, if it comes, or just engorge his grave?
Yet until the time of reckoning, when Fortunas kiss disavows, what can be done?
when everyday reeks of struggle, sauteed with strife, and baked by an ever apathetic sun.