The eve of destruction…
The eve of destruction… (April poetry number fifteen.) My grandfather was a soldier, my father was a soldier and I was a soldiers. We were taught to fight, we were taught to shoot… Continue reading
The eve of destruction… (April poetry number fifteen.) My grandfather was a soldier, my father was a soldier and I was a soldiers. We were taught to fight, we were taught to shoot… Continue reading
In the year 2525… Bloody Sunday…. (April new poem number fourteen.) Today is another bloody Sunday. Men killing each other, men killing off the great cities and men stealing and killing Mother nature.… Continue reading