The victorious armour sweeps onwards.
Speeding tanks bellow choking dust and muffled cannon bark defiance.
Black burned out jeeps litter the desert,
And smoke coils upwards.
Twisted corpses record the mileage,
And armies of flies feast on plenty.
Stenching flesh pleads for burial,
But the sun shows on mercy.
A mound of oily rags, yesterday lived,
Perhaps twenty, loved and wanted.
Unrecognisable now - faceless.
Propaganda urges - 'Die as heroes',
But here, there's no dignity in death.
(T.E.T 1967)
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