Colin F. Jones


~ 1 ~

How sad it is that monuments to the dead inspire War,
As the monuments to peace, one by one seem to fall.
For of those who go to battle few have been there before,
They know not of the carnage inspired by the trumpet call.
But history paints the picture of tomorrows yet to come,
No different from the scenes that were painted in times gone,
It’s just the filling of the colours that are faded now and dun,
That the blood will flow red again peace-seeking with the gun.
We build monuments to our dead all our bitter shame to hide,
Behind the graphics drawn in red of those soldiers that have died.
We recall how they butchered us, not how we butchered them,
It’s for their own who grieve to recall what happened to their men.
So we build monuments to our fallen memorials of their loss,
That we will always remember what our cruel wars have cost.

~ 2 ~

We shall worship our monuments and thus worship war,
Seeing only ourselves for it is ourselves we adore,
We shall bow to the master who prepares the battle ground,
And slaughter one another with a willingness profound.
Our generals will be heroes and our grave yards will be filled,
More monuments will be erected to worship soldiers who are killed.
The dead will be the living and the living will be the dead:
The soldier becoming a veteran with the war still in his head.
We will justify our savagery by always being right,
But live the truth inside our veins every sleepless night.
And when our sons and daughters are called up to the fray,
We will tell the world how proud we are to see them go away,
For to sacrifice our lives means our names are on the wall,
And surely that’s worth dying for; it’s our memorial after all

~ 3 ~

Who will remember us in the years that have yet to come,
After a few more generations have misfired the peaceful gun,
Will the walls be a maze of walls or still amaze us yet,
That we still hide our pride in our undeclared regret.
There’ll be monuments on top of monuments, bodies piled high,
Crowds and crowds of people, still asking why they die.
We’ll be fighting over water with God –Heads in decline,
More poets seeking refuge in their sanctimonious rhyme.
We will always seek agreement with our friends but not our foes,
For we need them to dam the river lest peacefully it flows,
Uniting all the nations that cannot nations be,
If the waters of the river are allowed to reach the sea.
For peace is not an option so we gird ourselves for war
And continue doing what we say, we all truthfully deplore.