War - A soldiers story

Am I guilty?
What about those who told me to pull the trigger
forced me to join the cause
trained me
supplied me...
and what about those who do nothing to stop them doing that?
War is not black against white
Communist against...
anarchism, 
centrism, 
fascism, 
liberalism, 
nationalism, 
socialism,
leftism, 
libertarianism 
or any other "ism" you can think of
it's not them verses us
it's humans fighting humans
it's various disagreements
conflicts
motivations, 
both political and societal
but it's not politics 
It's not republics against democrats
It's not about getting rid of religious leaders of whatever faith
It's political leaders in hobnail boots
pulling the strings of puppets in military uniforms
with their shiny brass stars
and their polished medals 
barking orders down phone lines
ordering people like me
to kill!
kill! 
kill!

Politicians are not the ones who will do the killing
but they are the ones who send us 
the young 
fresh-faced 
ideological teenagers to war
it is we who are drafted 
forced to subscribe to their idiology
taught to kill 
to obey the orders of the puppeteers above us
forced to be shipped out to foreign shores
to kill an enemy we do not know 
teaching us to use the killing machines of war
lorded as heros
and more often than not
to be killed for a cause that isn't ours
whilst the whole world is watching
and what will you do with those who protest against war
those who didn't fall in line
do we send in the troops with guns and bullets on them?
How do we deal with that kind of person?
Or is it your right
for people protesting against the killings
to be killed themselves
beaten and mown down by your people in uniforms 
controlled
corralled 
denied their right to have their say
but they protest for us 
we who are returning in bodybags
to grieving mothers
and politically coordinated burials 

And...
why are the politicians having peacetalks whilst we are still fighting
whilst they argue about where everyone is going to sit round a table
they can't even agree what shape it should be!
Who are these people to talk about a war that I am having to fight?
Anyway - if they don't agree to our demands
we have more money than them 
so can buy more weapons 
so we can go on fighting!

And...
and what happens if I am lucky enough to survive the war?
Am I now human or am I still a soldier?
I can't be both!
What did the war do to me?
Look at me - who am I now?
How can I kill people and come home and be normal?
Is it any wonder I don't want to talk about it
You don't want to hear about what I saw!

You don't know!
You will never know!
You don't want to know how terrible war is!
Oh and don't give me a medal for what you made me do!

Where is the tolerance and respect
the regard for others 
other peoples and their beliefs

I will not fight again for my country
not because I don't love my country
but because I hate war
Killing for peace makes no sense 

Alternative CV

Summary: Specialising in avoiding anything which looks like hard work, I have an ever growing reputation as the man not to ask if you need something doing. 
Basic common sense, drive, ability, personality and likeability are just some of the characteristics I lack and I have a proven track record backing that up.

Education: "Our Convent of the Constipated Lady of the Night Secondary Boarding School" 
University of life: Failed first year then was expelled 
PhD from the University of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Thesis on "Mongolian bribary, and how to easily fleece any government of cash" acquired off 'Bazza' in the pub for a 'monkey'

Other Qualifications: 
GCSE: Histrionics, Flatulance, Smoking behind the bike shed and advanced laziness 
A levels: Mathematics,  Further Mathematics, Even Further Mathematics, again off my mate 'Bazza' in the pub for just a 'pony' each - bargain!

Hobbies and interests: Disappointing those close to me. 
Catching my dressing gown pockets on cupboard door handles. 
Tripping over flat surfaces and
having an amazing inability to parallel park.

References: I've bunged 'Bazza' an extra 'score' so he'll confirm everything's kosher


(Strapline)

(Strapline)
Move-eat-think-sleep!
(Reality)
Pull a muscle
get indigestion 
become anxious 
and so stuffer with insomnia 

Eurovision Song Contest - A Definition

A camp
over the top
style over substance - sham of music contest
flashing lights and suspect dancing
featuring the worst and instantly forgettable songs
which must feature at least 17 key changes
with the worst lyrics you'll luckily never hear again 
by the craziest singers you'll luckily never see again
using 90% of a countries GDP on outfits 
using 90% of the worlds sequins and glitter supplies
on crazy sets
with lightshows that would normally crash any countries national grid
featuring countries from all over the world and not just from Europe
fronted by local personalities who don't have personalities
featuring songs which are voted for by the viewers who have no musical taste
so it isn't really about the best songs because real singers and groups never enter
more about which country aligns with which other country
or which country hates which other country
or which country never votes for which other country
and there's always one particularly catchy song which you can't get out of your head - but remember 
flu is catchy too
and it all goes on for far too long
and the voting at the end is like having root canal surgery with out an anesthetic 
which the outcome is a curse because the winning country must host the following year's show
which is OK for us

...because the UK never win anymore!

The day I was born

On the day I was born
somebody died
a life had run it's course
hearts were broken
tears were shed...
or
hearts were joyous 
an abusive relationship ended
a soul was released
a illness won the battle
someone's battle was lost
a murder took place
somebody just couldn't take it any more
and; unbeknownst to some
last words were exchanged 
with a final kiss
fingers brushed through dying hair 
for a final time 
a final touch
a final caress...

and on the day I die, 
a child will be born.

Opposing

Opposition.
Opposed.
On opposite sides.
Two sides.
One table.
Two ideologies.
One war.
Brought to a head
with radically opposing views
and with differing angles on the same situation 
as if arguing with their own reflection 
they squabbllng like children in the playground 
monopolising radio interviews
monologues without breath taken
there's little hope for peace.
Supposedly here to find a solution 
but a solution to an insurmountable problem 
for with both sides convinced of their right
both sides vowing never to rest until the enemy is defeated
swearing none of this is their fault
arguing what they believe is right
convinced they've followed all the rules
yet civilians starve
innocent children die - a country dies!
Through blind eyes
and with harsh words 
lobbed across peace-talk tables
accusations are made
as if hand grenades 
words as sharp as the shrapnel created
pointing fingers 
like rifles pointed across the disputed lands
land stolen - one side shouts
land held by our fathers - the reply 
factions able to quote the colour of their own history
but not the colour of any possible future