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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.