Contents of War

                                   Contents of War



War, is a strange parody of life,

You live it as a soldier;

Beckoned by power be you brave

Or a coward,

It is much fought over this,

This human debacle that

Never relents,

Never goes away to tired

Quarters of history,

Much fought over by

Pacifist and Politician alike,

     Always a bargaining tool

Always a bargaining tool for peace

Or, riot!


You live it, even the

Civilians as petty as they can

Sometimes be,

You live it,

Live by its headlines

Live by the next coffin

Draped in red white and blue,

And you know the truth

We ‘all’ know the truth.



Is a sad fact of Man

And wherever you stand,

You’re standing upon

Histories of blood,

For we wouldn’t be

Where we are,

Wouldn’t see all who’ve

Come before without

The monuments and cenotaphs


     It’s about time we all

Took one stand,

One stance and said no

To its power,

No to its grip

Upon peoples of peace

For the soldier does not go,

Doesn’t forage in deserts for

Medals of honour;

He exists like the best of

Us trying to make sense

Of mayhem and madness,

Unwitting in knowing

The harm that it does

And if we all lay down

And placed within trust

A dormant trigger a finger,

We would chance

Only a tentative

Grasp upon peace.


No, I fear this little title

With all its sentiments will

Not wake people to the

Real stubborn truth;

For be you brave or a coward

     Power to a being

Like sweets to a child

Will always beckon the gun,

And even though,

We serve in faith,

We’re not so blind

As not to see the

Misgivings undone,



Can corrupt the Saintliest

Of souls if it’s placed in

Harbours not taught all

We now know,

For ignorance is bliss,

Silent and peaceful

And there be the irony,

For once the trigger is pulled,

A world full of madness

Decays every God likened soul

As the ship that will sail,

For ever and after

Be the ghost of the child

Who’d never murdered


      And before is all we shall

Wish for;

Sailing in tears

The many seas of despair.


Michael J Waite 28th May 2012.



◄ The Reality of What It Really Is

Ode to The Fisher King ►


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