Forced out in fright.
Lucky if in freight.
Unable to escape in flight.
Missiles drop like flea.
Too late to make a flee.
They shiver in fold-arms,
Waiting for their doom.
Forced out from their shells.
Not hard as oyster shells.
So easy-peasy,
Like a lemon-squeezy.
Crushing down their shells,
In a rocket-speedy.
Like a bullet fired from a gun.
Forced themselves,
Into the oil lands of Arabia.
The west sends their best.
They can’t resist themselves–
Over the urge to purge.
They evaded the world,
Plunging into a swamp.
Thus a stealth operation-
Over a long tramp.
One word ex cathedra from Trump,
An ex officio to the commandos.
He sits in the oval office.
Tweeting like a punk rocker.
With only one word-
That could kill millions.
S.J.A Gandhi
Poet & writer
31-jan-19
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