One Wonders 

As they feed, do they sometimes fester?
Statesmen. Dignitaries. Magnates. Kings.
Their toys are armies, corporations, oil fields,
The globe their flag strewn chessboard.

One wonders if, when sitting at
A sumptuously laden table with
Their family surrounding them
They hear, beneath congenial chatter,

Many worlds away, the quiet
Tap, tap, tap of the hammer
On a six inch dowel as it passes
Slowly through some peasant

Or insurgent's ear drum to find
The bloody darkness of the brain.

 
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