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No War Can End War.

No War Can End War.

and still- even then-
it was pretty damn meaningless.
--- Perhaps we’ve got nothing to do now
but to keep on keepin’ on. ---

But I think the souls of our soldiers
are worth a bit more
than to be
for this machine called war.
--- There’s a widow by a window
with her eyes on the floor,
thinking she too might deserve just a little bit more. ---

But alas, I could ramble in ambiguity forever.
And perhaps this human condition’s
an incurable one.
All I know is
this charade’s paraded around for
far too long
to just keep on
keepin’ on.


I’ve seen the sin of a sinner
say “Ma’, I’m a winner!”,
but she used to say something like “The only arms we need
are to hug”.
And she used to dream
of havin’ a teen
ask her “what are weapons for?” and…
“what was war?”

Forgotten words of our mothers,
fathers, and others…
‘cause the first casualty of war is truth.
And all wars are civil wars, ‘cause all men are brothers.
(Just a bunch of old politicians
sacrificing the youth)

the weapons with which World War III will be fought,
--- but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones. ---
Broken homes
and the broken bones we own
seem to be only waiting for what else might break.
--- I mean, you can no more win a war
than you can win an earthquake. ---

Every gun that’s made,
every hand grenade,
every dollar on war that’s spent
is in a sense a theft
from the starved ones left
to fall asleep on our cement.

Our innocence has left,
become bereft;
that is,
if it were ever here.
--- While only those who’ve died
(on either side)
have seen the end
of war, I fear. ----


Two enemies sworn
since they were born, but
neither shall survive
--- waist deep in this gasoline, one
with three matches…
one with five. ---

A metaphor,
yet quite literal.
“My conscience is a hell of a guy,
but I’m not. I’m just wrought”.
He said
“I’m just wrought with pride”.

There are no sides.
And there are no atheists in foxholes,
so we’ve got nowhere left to hide.
--- “That’s not an argument against atheism,
it's an argument against foxholes.”
is what my mother’s cried.

WE ARE.” is what it’s all become,
as no war was ever worth it, for no war
was ever won.

And perhaps someday, some old ‘n’ gray
politician will give a war.
And perhaps that day will be the day
when not a soul will come.