Poetry Week 2: Mechanical Warfare


Another poetry week? Well, why not? From Monday to Sunday, I will post a new poem every day on the blog. The last time I did it was a great success, and it widened my creativity. Though that week was much more cheerful and based on the world of dreams, this week, we’re looking into the world of technology, and how it has evolved, and has changed how we interact with people, and things. Today’s poem is about how nowadays, we don’t shoot our guns, we control our drones. 


I drop it on your head
I find your body, lying there dead
My finger on that trigger
Watching your corpse from afar
I am a man
I operate at base alpha A
There is my drone
My gun, flew all that way
You were a monster.
I’m a machine.
I destroyed you
For peace and sanity
Mechanical warfare
Clue’s in the name
Murder is a business
Its my game
I don’t shoot to kill
I don’t tread on your land
I kill from a far
Controller in my hand
It don’t matter
You still end up dead
My drone will fly away
And kill again
I follow orders.
Direct and clear.
An earpiece
Attached to my ear
Sergeant shouts
And I follow commands
Drone flies
Bullets fly around
Mummy don’t wanna know
Daddy just doesn’t care
The drone flies high
In the air
I go home
Wife and my kid
I unplug myself
I am a man again.

About the author


Since 2012, Benjamin Attwood has written for the If you Ask Ben blog.

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