I dedicate this poem to Keir Starmer and any politician who thinks war is a solution.
How futile war is
How we hope to live our mundane lives
So as not to hear the battle cry
Where bits of bodies lie in filthy dirt
Respect for the dead a piece of marble
Young and Old they died,innocent and not so
Forever they will live in memory,
Their sacrifice made so that we can celebrate our mediocrity
Do not be sad, for to the best ordinary lives mattered,
They did not see themselves as heros,
But as men and women fighting against a tide
A tide,like the wax and wane of the moon
Beyond their understanding
But an ever constant presence.
An erosion or giver of life,they were never sure
We can never be sure either
And that is the tragedy or perhaps the reason.
We feel such sorrow and such dread
Was there really any point?
thenotsomightyom 