The medieval cavalry,

Brandishing a sword,

Hesitating not to slain,

His adversaries in an open plain,

To modern warrior,

Flying a plane,

Loaded with smart ballistic weapons,

To mince the flesh and crash the bones,

Of whoever dares challenging his domain.

One thing is certain.

If man finds another planet, another

safe haven,

Where there is plenty of rain,

Shimmering sun shine,

And lush grasses grow,

Be it on the mountains sides, ravines and the plains.

Of mass destructions,
But most of all the badly designed engine,

He takes excessive pride of – the brain.

But to shed blood in violence and leave
The unmistakable marked stains,
Offer historians material evidence,

And psychiatrists a theory to explain,

Their readers to convience,
That man had suffered at birth

A heighten level of collective madness.

Copyright Haileselassie Giramy
21/8/98