Congo's Estuary
A consonant undersigned. A fluttering of souls
my wholes, an entity depicted so many times,
in mind, sleep, flux and reflux, a wit oddly molds,
my soldier career medals, and candor, bestow.
A chief-sergeant in the foreign legion, enlisted,
a mercenary, my abilities challenging my death,
or any other darkened, I may grasp, perception,
pacing on Congo's Estuary blight sickish stealth.
Who inscribed my destiny on this pompous,
without meaning employment? Myself, I bicker,
our every effort, an irk of my legion, tortuous,
all maladies await for victims, of a mind weaker.
Do not drink, malaria is smiling her yellowish grin,
this water is made for beasts, insects, or serpents,
our one wrong move, they expect, so of an obscene
an idiotic, foolish end of our mission, death invents.
We remember our companions, as mines exploded
disjointing their members in a scarlet rain of pulp,
a boisterous thunder was this Hades vow, unfolded,
as a buffoon malicious spirit, rewarded 'em, to laugh.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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