Love of Guns

In America, guns are loved above God, 
death being the ultimate devotion;
to shoot an expression of worship;
and killing our commitment to war.

War doesn’t raise men up.
War beats men down,
a rain that crushes what's fertile 
and floods meant, above all, to drown.

Cold steel without emotion 
is what man aims,
uploads, locks in, locks out 
what once he might have felt;

response denied, suspended,
except for wind 
the bullets create in passing,
harsh breath of war. 

What’s its purpose, what is it for, 
this love of guns 
that rushes countries to war,
vain glory turned immediately gory,
truth prostitute.

It has been said, 
the man who lives by guns 
by guns will die.
Truth ugly and unreformed, 
still remains true,
which for war is the lasting blessing.

 Who could ask for more?