How much land does one man need
to impose his will upon?
Then came all the Caesars calling
charging across the Rubicon.
He sailed beyond the enlightened shore
to make his presence known.
Columbus found “no monsters” crawling
just “Indians” he could own.
There beyond the dry summer plains
where destiny swallows life,
Lay the naked bones of Custer
scattered with the seeds of strife.
And living space for the Hitler folk
so pure the angels sing.
With no one spared the blood ran cold
and the angels took to wing.
From the east Putin’s red star rises,
the innocent are forced to run.
Smoke billows from shattered lives
into the burning setting sun.
To what end then, does a man seek land
once all the fighting is done?
When just six feet from head to toe
is all that he has won?