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June 16, 2019

Battle Of The Bulge

misty winter wonderland morning
laying in a foxhole
at the bottom of the world
but somehow it doesn’t seem deep enough
the beautifully rhythmic pitter-patter of machine gun fire
the battle rages on
while the snow falls so peacefully
blood in the snow
snow in the blood
snow on the pine trees
standing like silent sentries
jeeps making tracks pretty little patterns in the snow
grinding tank mechanical death approaches
crunching the snow beneath its treads
burned out buildings burning forlornly
walking on eggshells through the forest
twig-snap twitchy finger
POP POP POP POP among the pines
like multiple corn poppers
wind picking up
artillery raining down
frozen feet like chunks of concrete
ain’t roasting no marshmallows by the fire