Jelly Baby War

The red camp sat back and chewed viciously
on the soft arms of their newly captive green,
he pleaded for mercy with screams, none came.
Tortured, and laughed at with malice he melted
away in the ecstasy of rough swollen tongue.

The black camp made plans to raid the yellow
while drinking moonshine from sugared looks.
Songs of war and freedom dominated the night
as they merrily prepared for their stomach ache,
all was well in their world as they dreamt victory.

Meanwhile, the orange camp patrolled sleep,
unaware they were being watched by the yellow
scouts hiding on the edges of confectionary hell,
the name for the graves of fallen companions,
greedy vision drooled want from before mealtime.

War saturated the sticky fingers of childhood,
all lined up, orderly sectioned into neat piles,
arms, heads, feet, whole bodies were consumed
with shouts of playful I will eat my greens mum,
I promise, I promise, while secretly crossing fingers.