Chapter 7: Relative Heaven
Footnote: This poem is an extract from the text of this book.
War and Peace
War and Peace?
From what I hear, war is hard to bear,
yet all around you are in the same boat.
They are all sharing the tribulation with you.
Each has his part.
Each is a part.
All strive and suffer together.
All share the pain.
All share the victory.
When unemployed you stand alone.
You are isolated.
Those around you not only are not suffering your hardships,
they also despise you.
Laymen and officials alike,
are dispassionate about your circumstance.
It is your own fault.
You are a malingerer,
whom their precious tax money should not have to support.
I would rather fight and die with a rifle in my hand,
than endure this purposelessness,
this dearth of opportunity,
this contempt from every quarter.
Maybe I should fight,
and perhaps even die.
Not with a rifle, but at my keyboard.
Striving to lay bare the truth.
To an apathetic public mind.
About the rancid system under which we live.
infected and corrupted by impervious walls of secrecy and privilege,
by exclusive institutions, cliques, unions, gangs,
by nepotism, fraternity and the Old School Tie.
Which metes out riches to the undeserving,
and misery to the meek and wise.
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© May 1998 Robert John Morton
This poem is an extract from the text of this book.