Lucky is the conscript with his pun

Oh,false Britain when the sun was low
Could you not bomb Auschwitz, torture den?
Light blinds our eyes  yet soon the world would know
I rarely see bare branches birch trunks, glow.

Yet here they stand  like candles , who may come?
Oh,false Generals  like the sun  you’re low
My mind feels  high as codeine , my heart’s  cold

Here the hare runs ,awed  by dawning sun
Light helped men   to kill  Jews  for teeth gold
This summer is a fake with  its mixed modes

Lucky is the conscript with  their pun
Oh,false summer light breaks ,blackbirds run
See the leader, envy  not their  gun

With all his weapons he can’t   fire the sun
Oh,false summer, light dance, fire may roast
We   turn  black with rage, oh holy ghosts  

I welcome comments and criticism

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