A man's blood stains tides
Grotesque and twisted
A bloated, floating corpse
bobbing in an apathetic sea
His hands drift uselessly
They held a baby once
His chapped lips kissed
farewell, grieving wife
Dying soldiers gurgle
Salt seawater weighting
They fought for corporations
Expired for profit's sake
A man's blood stains tides
The guts of nations seeping
But does it mark consciences
Of Western politicians?
No blood for oil:
Patrick Mackeown
http://www.bookscape.co.uk