Bullets

The bullets whined and whistled
dashing through the air
The bullets bounced and fizzled
in a bumping, grinding scare
The bullets fought and flew
in a biting, bloody brawl
The bullets struck and slew
in a torrid, squelching, squall
The bullets cried and screamed
in a carousing drunken fling
The bullets smoked and steamed
in furious swarming stings
The bullets boozed and bit
on a banquet of blood
The bullets swore and spit
in a puddle of earth and mud
The bullets won a war
shredding through the skin
The bullets are a whore
scarlet in their sin.

(c) John den Boer, 2000.