“Violence is bad”, children are told,
as we hit them again for doing things wrong.

“Violence solves nothing”, we repeatedly say,
as we march off to war to get our own way.

Surrounded by rants against the evils of hate,
as another bomb is planted to end the debate.

“War is so wrong”, they forever preach,
until they crave something that is just out of reach.

Protesting for “Peace” at a Military base,
the same day the protestor ***** his best friend.

But "**** is so bad", the media bleat,
next to some ******* and a titillating piece.

“I **** you for your beliefs; you **** me for mine”,
the unbelievable ritual of the slaughterhouse kind.

So it’s “Just another war for ending all wars”,
such nonsense is spoken to justify their cause.

Disfigured by violence, a child cries “why?”,
deafened by the world’s silence and covered up eyes.

With whispers of peace, silenced by hate,
lost voices at night, and echoes of rage.

Surrounded by cries lost in the dark,
only the loudest get heard, the rest leave no mark.

So do we hate death? I reckon we don’t,
as new ways are invented to take what we want.

Our love for the battle, of guns, power and fame,
is a far too seductive and profitable game.

But longing for peace and an end to all wars,
starts inside each of us, not slogans on boards.

Until anger, greed and hatred cease inside us all,
the foundations for violence will never fall.

(c) Gordon Warren June 2014

A friend of mine was unemployed,
he didn’t know what to do.
So he went down to the Army office and
said “I want to join you”.

So they sent him off to war,
for something he didn’t know.
They put a gun in his hand and
said “shoot the ones across the road”.

So he squatted down in the mud,
with the ****, the bullets, the bodies and the blood.
Trying to think of the ones he loved.
Trying to ignore all the death and the pain.

Then he saw the enemy come up to him.
He got his gun and went over to them.
He looked him straight in the eyes,
“That’s the first mistake”, the Officers replied.

For he saw a young man about his age,
he said “You’re the enemy, I must shoot you dead!”.
The man said “Why?” and stood there still.

My friend was silent and thought a lot.
His mind went crazy, he couldn’t shoot.
He couldn’t see why the war was on.
Why was he fighting? What’s to be won?
Why shoot a man the same as him?

So he put his gun on the ground,
and the enemy did the same.
Then the Officers went up to them,
and shot them both in the brain, and said
“They should have played the game”,
and went back from where they came,
to carry on the war,
like all those times before.
Safe in their bunkers,
with a gin and a straw!

Copyright: Gordon Warren (1986)