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For our wars we build somber memorials
to remind us of horrors past.
Young and old shuffle by, wistful and sad,
glancing with eyes downcast.
Having Peace without victors failed;
we want to come out on top.
And if we can’t do it with words and not Swords,
that doesn’t mean that we’ll stop.
In our schools we teach violence is wrong,
regarding ancient carnage with scorn.
But at recess we talk of waterboarding
in our favorite movie Borne.
The reality of death is a fog;
it shrouds both killer and killed.
But if we pretend and close our eyes,
we can suppress reality at will.
For success and destruction are friends;
respect can be forged with a gun.
But those who believe that there’s glory in death
will find, of glory, they have none.
See, that murderous hero that we want to be
and are afraid to become
is as much of a fantasy
as big foot or tom thumb.
The line between truth and mythology
is more easily blurred than you’d think.
Only a personal experience
can draw the line with permanent ink.
So, although we remember the strife of past wars,
we also recall them a win.
Do humans ever learn from their mistakes?
or just go for a while before making them again.