macbeth

soldiers of the russian army
are practicing fury
along the ukrainian
border––

the farms & villages &
towns & cities
rest quietly
in the peace
of a frigid winter
night
with icy skies
& yearning stars.

what sickness
infects the minds
of these rabid
russian men
with brutal
hands?

to kill––
to maim
breathing souls
of every age––

to pierce childflesh
& elderflesh
with pain
with harm––

crushing life
to breathless
dust––

& the farms
with their animals
left burning
in the night––

& the city blocks
with lives
reduced to rubble
& mangled skeletons––

all because
the madness of humanity
breeds hate––
breeds rage––

corrupts the souls
of the soldiers
in their cradles
with blood-dreams
of dominance––

because mothers
sacrifice their children
to hate––

& fathers smoulder
in drunken frustration
for their impotence––

because the many
abandon
their gentle hearts

to be ruled
by the lightning
nightmares
in the brain

of one man
imprisoned
in a death-grip
ego

locked in a cell
with insatiable insanity

lusting
with delusionary
madness.