Hope springs eternal…(acrostic)

Have we really lost our way
Open warfare every day
Perhaps if some could compromise
Earnest talks could open eyes.

Sparing children from seeing death
Plaguing memories till dying breath
Rights of all, to live in health
Interfering warmongers who all get wealth
No money, the poor go to food banks
Guess you dine anywhere if you sell tanks
Somebody making a fortune from others.

Each bullet fired can kill someone’s brothers
Talks round the tables among heads of state
Extracting solutions before it’s too late
Roses should be given by lovers on a date
Not on the gravestones of victims of hate
Armageddon is the end-game we fear
Let’s step back from the edge, it’s dangerously near.

©Joe Wilson – Hope Springs Eternal…2015

 

Taking the lead…

His pain from fire was seen round the world
And Governments’ collective lips all curled
Such profanity was displayed without a care
A King left the runway as his jet took to air.
Leading his people against this vicious attack
It began long ago and there’s no going back
They’re baying now for the terrorist blood
He’s sure to know it will come to no good.

So many wars and so much fighting
And so much bloody death
New children are brought into the world
Where wars just rob them of their first breath.
Everywhere now seems awash with the blood
With the blood of the Innocents
While the world is slowing destroying itself
In human inflicted increments.

©Joe Wilson – Taking the lead…2015

The numbers rise…

Walked I along this Autumn morn
midst trees with bright red berries borne
where once men stood with with tanks as shields
on Europe’s bloodiest battlefields.

And in extraordinary Worldly War
friends kill friends who’re friends no more
as lines are drawn and power revealed
where once such things had lain concealed.

How many men and women died
for pious thoughts and national pride
whose wasted lives now lie beneath
that trampled o’er when we cross heath.

The bodies fall, the numbers rise
more victims of political lies
and yet some people still would fight
convinced that they are in the right.

Twas ever thus and shall remain
the populace feel power’s disdain
yet even now we fight their wars
with they as pimps and we their whores.

©Joe Wilson – The numbers rise…2015

The Weeping Book…

He opened the binding of The Weeping Book
curiousity piqued, he needed to look
but how he wished he had never seen
the horrors therein that were so obscene.

The guilt of man along the passage of time
senseless slaughter without reason or rhyme
each page he turned ill had been done
by book possessed he ventured on.

The rape and pillage of those years before
children the victims of violent war
races were mixed, the one good thing
vicious hecklers of bigotry sing.

On and on through the pages now
the hurt caused pain behind his brow
saints and sinners all listed here
their sins for all to see quite clear.

He saw the vilest sins of history’s pain
enslavement of those for other’s gain
let loose man’s done some terrible things
hope’s voice is quelled by vicious stings.

The Weeping Book so perfect in name
from front to end it’s full of shame
and he a priest of noble birth
would find before day’s end, his worth.

No water passed his lips, nor food
his mind so troubled by soured mood
and then the page on which he gazed
revealed the future of a man gone crazed.

No change could he make to the book
transfixed at his poor fate he’d look
and as he pushed the dagger deep
as fate revealed he went to sleep.

The Weeping Book then slammed tight shut
till guilty man next came and put
his hand upon the tome’s dark cover
then his sad fate he’d soon discover.

©Joe Wilson – The Weeping Book…2014

His last words (25 December 1914)…

war_edited
…a lonely grave…

 

 

Scarred from the relentless passage of time
pitted with acid rain and covered with grime
forgotten by those who oft pass it by
gazed rarely upon by anyone’s eye.

A proud little monument in a faraway  field
with now faded words and a family shield
his nation had called and he’d gone off to war
though he and his friends didn’t really know what for.

And if you should wander and wonder at it
you’ll probably feel as if you have been hit
by the words that you see that are writ thereupon
“It is with such sadness that I bury my son.”

The last words they had, came back home in a letter
“It can’t go on Father, it has to get better
the killing is awful, they’re young men much like us
Please kiss dearest Mother, and a Merry Christmas.

 

©Joe Wilson – His last words (25 December 1914)… 2014

I still live in hope…

I wandered into a maelström
where the shouting turned to war
I wished them all a good day
cast a spell, they were no more.

Would that real life were so easy
that men of violence could be swayed
by a simple spell or by reason
enmity would remain un-displayed

To think of the peace we could all enjoy
at the nurturing of every child
all of the knowledge that could be spread
in a world where war was reviled.

©Joe Wilson – I still live in hope… 2014

Self-made Armageddon…

And the days were spent in wonder
at all the horrors He’d seen
He sent unholy flooding and chaos
To wash the planet clean.

To see if change was ever made
He waited then two thousand years
But horror still was all around
And what He saw proved all His fears.

Can man not recognise his fate
can he not see when he is wrong
can man not see of His design
that words like peace and love mean strong.

The fiery pits that destroy our Earth
aren’t in the depths of Hell
they’ll be the fire and cordite
of that last exploding shell!!

©Joe Wilson – Self-made Armageddon… 2014