---

a prideful man, eager for work,
strips an engine bare.
attaches custom parts designed
for an application rare.
the diesel builds the pressure up
with canisters in place.
gas flows through the shower heads
and digs two hundred graves.

the humble man, knows only work,
walks the factory.
leathered hands, still diesel soaked,
weave alloyed tapestries.
makes his home, between the lakes,
rust belt utopian.
lives life of grievous good
the true demise of men.

fiction held in modern thought,
translates into loss.
gone, the sense of real dread
so common to the cost.
disappear in boredom’s breadth,
safety lurks on every street.
a fortress of cadaver walls,
pay the price of purity.

think of what can make a man,
and of what men are made.
beings chained to circumstance,
the choices they forgave.
when smiles cloak atrocities,
and the screams of millions dead
are shrieking songs of dying throngs
going through the foreman’s head.

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