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War Hoarse 1

The pen is mightier than the sword,

so why wage war,

when a well-wrought word

may cease the fiery breath?

Is death so great a goal

that common parlance may,

without another thought,

send common soldiers to pursue

the aim of bureaucrats

to swell their chests

for kudos undeserved?

Bring back the days

when kings and princes

rode in battle with their men behind,

and when kings fell,

decided was the strife.

Yet even then

unwanted bloodshed marred the day,

though seldom that of elderly and child.

But now, with techno-button wars,

so often soldiers miss their mark

and non-combatants bear the scars.

Where is the honour?

How do they sleep at night

without the awful dreams that we would have?

They see their right

contained in next year’s plebiscite,

when most (they hope)

will not forget that glory

was the aim for all.

How selfish is the crazy thought

that we are better?

And that they must bow

to our ideas of what is good?

A tyrant we become

in efforts grand,

to make the others understand

that right is right

and left is wrong,

that left is weak

and right is strong.

Bring back the words

and pens that write,

that sanity may have its day

and ploughshares turn the swards.