Meditation On Remembrance….

It was putrid;
The stench of footrot, blood, vomit and fear;
Mud everywhere, everything was soaked right through;
Men dragged into service and some foolishly volunteering.

Whilst the politicians talked over whisky and cigars, we rotted and died;
In agony and fear in trenches for countries that only existed as names;
Boundaries set by greed, ambition and politics;
We rotted, bled, cried, shook and died for them.

Over the top;
We scrambled, slid and run in fear towards other human beings;
Screaming death and destruction waving our widow makers;
To be mercilessly cut down by machine gun and rifle fire;
By other humans wondering what the hell they were doing there.

This was meant to be the war to end all wars;
But war means profit;
Selling arms, gaining land and its riches meant more whisky and cigars;
Until the masses wake up and realise that they can live in peace;
That countries, nationalities, race and religion were all concocted for power;
Like sheep they will be led to the slaughter;
Mothers, wives and children will lose fathers and sons;
And everyone will suffer and die for those that wouldn’t fight themselves.
Steve Rowe