the machine
he consumed destruction
like it was sweet nectar
went on fifty year binges waging war
like there was no tomorrow
getting high on chaos
before receding into isolation
recuperating and retooling
just to do it all over again
if only his creator had programmed
his instincts differently
reigning in his selfish ways
of wasting resources
and repeatedly recessing
he could have produced
timeless masterpieces
that inspired a lasting peace
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Ah well, them’s the breaks (as we say in some parts of England on a Monday night) x
ha-ha, yes, you got that right, Julia!