A Soldier’s Orison

by | May 26, 2009 | Poetry | 0 comments

You sent me out to fight
You expected me to kill;
You openly admired my pluck
my energy and skill;
but now you turn away from me
when blood begins to spill.

How can you be so fickle?
So thoroughly naive?
When we left home and country
what on earth did you believe

would happen on those foreign sands
in lands we don’t belong,
did you forget that even in
good wars a lot goes wrong?

Historic’ly we beat to death
the captured whom we damned.
We shot at will the locals
when things didn’t go as planned.

Prime Ministers and Presidents,
Congressmen and such
tell us to go out and kill
but not to kill too much.

When terrorists are locals,
kids throw acid in your face;
when mates are blown to buggery
there’re bombs all round the place,

and when civilian casualties
flash beyond your fear,
ask yourselves why did you send
your best troops over here?

No-one seems to want to know
the noise, the slime, the smell,
the whistling whumps and body clumps
that decorate our hell.

There is no purity in war,
truth’s the first to go;
politics decide what makes
of each a friend or foe.

Civilians murdered, sure it’s bad
but how dare you judge me
believing all the spin you see
on digital tv.

So when you’re cosied up at home
think of we who keep
the putrid paths of terror safe
so you can crap and sleep!


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