Friday, October 22, 2004

106. War Stories (poem)

this blood-dripping
saddle says to me
my lord will not
be returning

to spreading green swards
under monkey-puzzle trees

he was a very silly
man, we all agree,
but it was not
a bad thing

to die in glorious battle
for the sake of something

he's dead
that's that

and we have to look
to the future
in which certain
things will happen

not, perhaps, good
things, but we are

secure, for the moment,
among nervous friends
and a plague
of drunken sycophants;

there is a chance
that the whole
wobbly edifice
will crumble
and fall

(I would vote
if we had elections;
I would laugh
if my mouth
wasn't covered
with bandages.)

You have to
go your own way
-isn't that what
we have learned
leaving others
to pick up the pieces。

War is not so bad
you can pick up
a few things
here and there
as long as you
don't get killed.

Being young
and obedient helps;
but now
we have to drag out
more screaming

you sit at home, but
democracy is a tough job

you sit at home, and
I envy you at times
but you can't do
what I can do

I can kill people

When I go home
I can work in the store
stacking shelves
but I think I might
go to college.