Then came the silence…

The East was at war with the West
Along with many of the rest
The North was in conflict with the South
Who had so little water or food for their mouth’.
Very soon guns were pointing to the West
Yet others were turned facing East
For those who were selling weapons
It was a killing-hardware feast.

And when all of the fighting was over and done
There was no more war, and no fear
The world had been turned to a graveyard
With no one to shed but a tear
As the final missile landed and blew
Not a soul was left living to hear.

©Joe Wilson – Then came the silence…2015

They also serve…

Careful are they who tend the sick
On battlefields where blood runs thick
Midst the slaughter and the shells
Queasy stomach that barely quells.

Brave are they that do this work
From their duty they won’t shirk
Mending bodies that are broken
Quiet encouraging words are spoken.

They fight their wars on blood-soaked table
Making wounded soldiers stable
Losing some they just can’t save
Haunting faces to their grave.

Theirs, a different kind of war
Filled with horror just as raw
Oft, while soldiers rest the gun
They’re still trying to save someone.

For war’s a tragic way to go
Those who’ve fought and lived will know
And yet there never seems to be
A day that ended, gunshot free.

©Joe Wilson – They also serve…2015

What a bloody mess…

That man should be defined by what he says, is our failing
Judgement for the things one does, would ease the ailing
For as our planet creaks, from all the frequent violent pain
More hysterical fighting, will surely start up yet again.

It seems perverse in so-called civilised times, so modern
To live in such a world of violence, that is blood-sodden
Yet every time a move is made to peace, small though it be
Opposing moves are swift, and in response, so bloody.

I would walk with a man, no matter his father’s seed
I would talk with a man, whoever, whatever his creed
Many others do, it’s highly likely you would too
While others would hate us all, for what we do.

Is there a man so innocent, that he would fire the shots
That kill another human, and create more bloody blots
But fire so certain, certain mind, that guilt was being assuaged
And not a wicked political ploy, in power struggles waged.

The tragedy of violence, it reaches to us all, in anger
So often now it gets ignored, by people’s modern languor
We see it on the news or in our online inbox newsreel
It’s easier to deal with, we have no actual need to feel.

It’s thumbs up now, and I’m alright Jack, no need for us to worry
But think, the world seems smaller now, and circled in a hurry
The one who’s sent to fire the shots could be your son or daughter
Would you not try to end a war that ends in senseless slaughter!

©Joe Wilson – What a bloody mess…2015

It goes on and on…

He found his full measure in blood-soaked war-torn land
Where the challenges were there for all to see
There were times when he saw what he couldn’t understand
He saw men and women in fear, forced to flee.

Yet still he would carry out his work, at a pace
In a constantly vigilant state, of course
For a life in the dangerous places he’d faced
Never left time for social intercourse.

So many would call, and the visits he’d make
And he always did the best that he could
As soldiers of all sorts left blood in their wake
He picked up the mess like a good surgeon would.

His house had been damaged like others had
He certainly suffered like many others did
And though losing his wife and son made him sad
He carried on regardless as his decency bid.

When it will end, no one can ever predict
He hated the violence and the death
He prayed for a day of no conflict
So people could at last draw clean breath.

It’s sad, but a bullet found him one day
Not really one that was aimed straight at him
The man fired in the direction of an enemy
He fell in a make-shift surgery in a gym.

©Joe Wilson – It goes on and on…2015

Earth…the innocent victim…

Down came the rain
And washed away the sin
It couldn’t ease the pain
That war had left it in

How scarred this Earth
How scorched the land
For such is caring’s dearth
By humans’ evil hand.

Profit and loss
The price of war
How ‘they’ call the toss
While raking in more.

This Earth feels the pain
Even washed clean by rain
While ‘they’ steal the gain
Till little will remain.

©Joe Wilson – Earth…the innocent victim…2015

The choice…

Everywhere that he ever went
He always travelled in style
With supple leather and cocktail bar
He sat in the rear for mile upon mile.

He traded this, he traded that
Till finally he didn’t care
It was weapons he sold, they were deadly
To him in war, all things were fair.

And then one day he got the chance
To choose twixt loss or gain
Some men kidnapped his family
He had never felt such pain.

The ransom when it came was surprising
There was just one simple demand
Stop all of the sales of your weapons
Including those already planned.

For him the choice was so easy
He turned from the cocktail haze
Now he writes of love and of romance
With his family near, life finally pays.

©Joe Wilson – The choice…2015

The letters…

Heavy the heart
Painful the burden
The messenger’s part
In passing the word on.

Deep are the creases
That now line his brow
The pain never ceases
It’s personal somehow.

His was the book
Which counted the dead
But each killing took
His heart’s peace instead.

They were his men
He loved them like sons
They’ll not sing again
Silenced by guns.

The letters he wrote
To tell of each death
Families he smote
By words of last breath.

The killing decided
There’s no final amount
Messenger lies dead
One more for the count.

©Joe Wilson – The letters…2015