Blind in the Wild Wood

Somebody told me
that repeatedly
undertaking
the same action
with the expectation
of differing results
is the bread crumb trail
madness leaves
through the
wild wood.
Uh oh.
I hear the sound
of bomb bay doors
opening
yet again.
More badger hole
and
less Toad Hall,
please.
Pot kettle black
fuselages
are gonna doom
the frightened
and bankrupt
the complacent.
Twisted metal
made rose petal red
by smashed bodies
huddling in oil black
basements.
All painted in atari green,
pixilated for human
amusement,
and spun between
the rods and cones
of
serotonin re-uptake
inhibited
inebreates.
Before they play
the march of
the tank tread
and all of God's toys
go off to be reborn
as sandstorm effluvium,
maybe remember...
it's the same water
that swrils in every eddy
bubbles in every riffle
n slackens in every pool
in the stream.
What's visited upon the other
will be visited upon the self.
God save the mad parade
Lord God have mercy
all claims are paid.