LIFEINSLUM

Look to this day: For it is life, the very life of life. In its brief course Lie all the verities and realities of your existence. The bliss of growth,

1 9 5 9 I Behind voice of guns Broken barricade of 1 9 5 9 Paved road for revolution Island locked in stock Against stomach seal with hunger Aristocracy eats on imperialist table Plantation of existence While life tear self bloodily Under with pain toil to death Earls before ‘5 9 And wardens of continent Barricade with philosophy Resources street leap for Like crawling ape for Stolen scrambles locked Holders before ‘5 9 Gangs of ward remnant Barricaded with stock guns But ‘5 9 tremble for fighters Heaven ice hearing voices Revolution in hose of guns Guns in farmers’ fingers Breaking wall of 1 9 5 9 Through arrow’s voice at front Fired at aristocracy before ‘5 9 Landlords, gangs, government And philosophy feeding fattest Earl’s fat getting fatter Than Island encamp for wardens Shipping better life banking While street rolled back suffering Drink saliva to kill thirst Life nail to cloud of death II Lesson must awaken consciousness Ov

'I am thinking to death In the casket of unforgiveness And can't be soften Be lenient to words When seen life edited Hang like roasted fish'

In the mess of my country Life welds itself to somnambulism

I Happy are men who yet before they are killed Can let their veins run cold. Whom no compassion fleers Or makes their feet Sore on the alleys cobbled with their brothers. The front line withers, But they are troops who fade, not flowers For poets’ tearful fooling: Men, gaps for filling: Losses, who might have fought Longer; but no one bothers. II And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling, And Chance’s strange arithmetic

The young men of the world Are condemned to death. They have been called up to die For the crime of their fathers. The young men of the world, The growing, the ripening fruit, Have been torn from their branches, While the memory of the blossom Is sweet in women's hearts; They have been cast for a cruel purpose Into the mashing-press and furnace. The young men of the world Look into each other's eyes, And read there the same words: Not yet! Not yet! But soon perhaps, and perhaps certain. The young men of the world No longer possess the road: The road possesses them. They no longer inherit the earth: The earth inherits them. They are no longer the masters of fire: Fire is their master; They serve him, he destroys them. They no longer rule the waters: The genius of the seas Has invented a new monster, And they fly from its teeth. They no longer breathe freely: The genius of the air Has contrived a new terror That rends them into pieces. The youn