Colin F. Jones


Political propaganda doth transmogrify war,
Glorifies killing; all that we deplore.
We rise to the occasion with our flags and fare,
For propaganda is like confetti embedded in our hair.
We dutifully listen in the way we were taught
For “freedom” requires us to do as we ought.
Our concept of freedom, which relies on the beast,
Is as false as its pretence; it’s imagination at least.
There is no glory in war only survival or death,
Despite the promises lingering on politicians’ foul breath.
And if there is a God there is nothing we can do,
For we will act as directed for the Devil to subdue,
Because there isn’t any freedom and peace is a lie,
For every living creature who may find it when they die.