talking of war
go away
but it will not of course we
have seen it in the cinema and enjoyed
the victory that is was ours always
the actors alive again to die another day
but oh when one’s finger almost touches
the sticky bloody facts
and turning every corner is but a selfish act
and where oh where can we hide from this
annoying newsy newsy confusy thing a me there
i have said that an apology is never enough
to assuage a torn heart in two or three
or how many in the mass grave on the road to in or out
of the lack of trust in forensic propaganda’s hand
the pen of many hands are torn every which way and that
is the fact we cannot hold and cannot rest this day
although we wish it would go away go a bloody away
and every sacrifice is a thread held in our hands
and i want
to but what can i do
i can’t for certain say
now the need of leaders true of statesmen who can carry trust
for truth is the first casualty of war
isn’t that what they said all those years ago
for i want to believe in a fact and strive until time’s end for
the arrival of tomorrow’s peace nailed hard and fast to the roof
against all future storms that are and of course will be again
but oh the pain of incredulity is hard to put away
my tears are slow to come but when they flow they will stay
as a crusty salt carapace on a burnished hand
but not now i say for it is too soon to know the truth
but the one’s who are left alive will know
the dead were not alone
they did not die alone
interred in humanity’s blood stained flag
our minds the open grave
for if the right one don’t get you the left one will
do you know
do you know
even as we die inside
outside we are burning the last will and testament
of our carboniferous mistake
nihilism seems to fit so well
that it seems so apt to dwell
on nothing ever found in nothing’s end
will ever be a just cause for any long lament
at the last footstep’s end
no one will know
how we cried today for yesterday
and for tomorrow
bloody hell
