Will we ever learn?
The scarlet flares illuminate
a scene from Dante’s inferno.
In muddy trenches soldiers wait.
They’ve learnt to fear the rosy glow.
Behind the lines artillery
sing out their litany of hate
to terrify the enemy
In this respect they are too late.
Exhausted men beyond all fear
crouch numb and sleepless in the mud
and should a heavy shell fall near
They do not hear but feel the thud.
They have no hope all hope has died
These broken men their courage gone.
The veterans on either side.
Each one some loving mothers son.
They answered to their country’s call
each swallowing their country’s lies.
They were prepared to give their all
the ultimate in sacrifice.
Two thousand men died in one day.
A day in June nineteen fourteen.
This was the price they had to pay
. A price which could have been forseen.
The General Staff were confident
old fashioned tactics would prevail
and to a man would not relent.
Quite certain that they could not fail.
Both sides bogged down, total stalemate.
The allies claimed the victory.
Each side has realised but far too late
that modern warfare could not be
conducted in the same old way.
The world was forced to recognise.
Some prices were too high to pay
and rarely worth the sacrifice
of brave young men on either side.
The cream of Europes breeding stock.
Although we honour those who died.
There are some memories we block.
We don’t learn lessons from the past
It seems the human race cannot.
Although the painful memories last
the lessons they should teach do not.
8-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Killers All?
Now bugle boy what do you blow
Your trumpet pressed to your dead lips
I sound recall to let them know
this is the end of their hardships
They came as boys but died like men
From factories farms and mean back streets
They will not see their homes again
The brave young men whom death defeats.
They answered to their country’s call
And donned their Khaki battle dress
And shipped to France where they would fall
by thousands in the wilderness.
Created by the shot and shell
turning the battlefield to mud.
Which drowned young soldiers where they fell
and drenched the earth with their hearts blood.
Now poppies blow in Flanders fields’
The soil enriched by dead men bones
which has increased the harvest yields.
The poppies act as their headstones.
So many died and were not found
their fate unknown, No man could say
Their bodies melded with the ground
but we remember still to day.
The slaughter and the sacrifice
The useless waste of human lives.
They were prepared to pay the price.
Though a small band of them survives.
Each passing year their numbers fall
Old age more sure than shot and shell.
Soon there will be none at all
who endured that living hell.
The war to end all wars they said
You will be home by Christmas tide
Instead of that most would be dead.
Involuntary suicide.
We honour those who bravely died
a generation of young men.
The best of breed on either side.
But still we go to war again.
The world has never been at peace
since the war to end all wars.
I don’t believe that wars will cease
as long as there are warriors.
Who think they can enforce their will
on other men by force of arms.
It seems that killing is a skill
Which can seduce men with its charms.
16-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Remembrance Day
Remembrance Day.
Poulters Measure
This day when we recall; the fighting men who fall
We stand erect, heads bowed in silence to show our respect.
For men who died for freedoms cause; who gave their all
Who made the supreme sacrifice, dying to protect.
The right of all men to be free: Answered the call.
But we forget although we demonstrate our deep respect.
The lessons taught by history. Ignored by all
Soldiers on either side die to no effect.
Now though we stand in silent respect to recall
The men who fell.I can see no reason to expect
that things will change sufficiently, if at all
I fear the future looks to be a grim prospect.
This day set aside to remember all the men who fall.
with due respect; but sadly say that I suspect
Remembrance Day makes no difference at all.
Sunday,06 November 2001
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Final solution
The countless dead unburied lay beneath a covering of clay.
The good earth turned to dark red mud mixed with the best of soldier’s blood.
It mattered not how many died for death could not be satisfied.
Brave men who fought for their country. Death chose amongst them randomly.
I lived although my comrades died. Death often took them from my side.
Why did I live? So I can tell the world about the living hell
wich we endured knee deep in mud. I think it fitting that I should.
So many died on either side. Involuntary suicide
To fight a war they could not win, to no more see their kith and kin
Like every war it proved to be a total waste, a mockery
The cream of Europe’s fighting mem would never see their homes again.
What did it prove the First World War? Nothing we had not known before!
Though we remember those who died. The lessons learned are not applied
for men still battle constantly to prove superiority.
It seems mankind can’t live in peace, that wanton killing will not cease
Until death has added to his score the last man and there are no more.
I think that then and only then the world will be at peace again.
16/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Battle field musings
Battlefield musings
I am aware that thousands lie beneath the soil below the sky
I listen to their silent cry. Why were we sent to fight and die?
They came from every walk of life and briefly trained to join the strife.
In the Great War to end all wars. Convinced they fought in freedoms cause.
The men of God the padres lied, they said that God was on our side
That he would grant them victory but they were wrong quite obviously.
The tides of war ebbed to and fro. It was impossible to know.
Which side if either was ahead. The quick were fewer than the dead
Young soldiers by the thousand died in the name of national pride.
Eventually it was agreed that the Germans would concede.
But was it worth the sacrifice. There is no answer satisfies
The myriads who fought and died. The truth is that their leaders lied
Now poppies grow in Flanders fields where the dead increase the yield
of crops the local farmers grow. We can’t pretend we do not know
There are no winners in a war, a lesson we choose to ignore.
We only pay lip service to, a fact we know too well is true.
Saturday,16 October 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Jaundiced view?
We fail because we never learn
the lessons that the past can teach.
The sound advice we choose to spurn
will place success beyond our reach
The question is what is success?
To have the latest gadgetry
Apparently the answers yes.
although they are not necessary.
Technology moves on apace.
Things soon become obsolete.
The greatest failing of our race
We are determined to compete.
Instead of working side by side
to benefit everyone.
The powers that be will still decide.
That they’ll be better on their own.
To show the rest they are the best.
Which fosters greed and selfishness.
What does it matter if the rest
are left to live in wretchedness..
Me first, me first the constant cry.
I do not care a toss for you
You cannot win if you don’t try
to stay ahead the way I do.
I will succeed at any price
and you will pay for my success.
I know that I will not think twice.
My only aim is to impress.
I choose to live in luxury
I see no reason I should not
Although you live in poverty
I will not share what I have got.
It’s human nature at its worst.
I see no signs that it will change.
Our creed has always been me first.
I do not find it to be strange.
But then I am a realist
I view the world cynically.
and not as an idealist
would like to see it be.
03/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Another Young Soldier
Another young soldier has died far away
An army representative will call on his mother today
For to tell her your son on the course of his duty has died
He served and died for his Country with his mates at his side.
Another war mother will grieve for her son
It will not matter to her if the battle was won
And it will not matter to her if her boy died brave
She will weep every time she will visit his grave.
Another young soldier to join the war dead
A bullet from a sniper hit him in the head
On his next birthday in June he would be twenty three
His loss a heavy cross to bear for his parents and members of his family.
Another young soldier may he rest in peace
At least from further suffering he has found release
Just one more to die in another man's war
On a bombed out back street in a city afar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Wish Is For A Perfect World
The World might well be different if religion and patriotism
died
And if mistrust and greed died with them there would be peace World wide
But with these four still prevalent what hope for harmony
And what hope for love and tolerance for all humanity.
That the clergy bless the troops for war seems hard to understand
To go and throw their lives away for religion and land
That man should kill his fellow man not written in God's will
The fifth commandment clearly state the words 'thou shalt not kill'.
Intolerance, greed and mistrust all of these go side by side
With lust for land and religion and patriotic pride
All these have given rise to wars and yet we've failed to see
The mistakes our fore fathers made nor learnt from history
I am not condemning religion in case you get me wrong
And I have great respect for those who worship God in song
But when religion lead men to war 'tis there the wrong come
in
For wars are caused by ignorance where winners cannot win.
And as for patriotism that has the strangest ring
Of the noble men who died in war the ballad maker sing
They thought it the great sacrifice to give their lives for land
But the most who lived to reap the gain never took gun in hand.
And as for greed and mistrust of those what can one say?
For human self enlightenment I hope to see the day
For all human beings have good in them or so 'twould seem that way
But some can't reach their higher self and somehow go astray
It's up to every individual to live good as they can
To make this world a better world for family of man
To learn more about tolerance and live in harmony
My wish is for a perfect world but that may never be
poem by Francis Duggan
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Generally speaking
The guns fall silent and the dead
lie quietly they’ve played their part.
The night hour’s pass heavy with dread
at first light the big guns will start.
The sound of the artillery
will fill the silent skies again.
Eroding further bravery
of the war weary fighting men.
The brave young men on either side
are doomed to die face down in mud.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Their dug outs do but little good.
A shell burst may not kill just maim
The lucky ones are those who die,
they are the winners in this game
when thick and fast the bullets fly.
Opposing sides move to and fro
to capture trenches they’ve just left.
For no good reason that they know
obeying orders quite bereft
of any sign of sanity.
The generals are safe behind the lines
Unlike the vast majority
who fight to fulfil their designs.
Lions by donkeys badly led
Young men by the thousand died.
A foreign field their final bed
because good sense was not applied.
In Flanders fields the poppies grow.
The soil enriched by their hearts blood
What have we learnt we did not know?
Nobody won Nobody could.
There are no winners none at all
except perhaps the carrion crows
They dine well when the soldiers fall
as mighty nations come to blows.
Survivors return home broken men
with small support and little praise.
Until they’re needed once again
when countries their new armies raise.
Another war to end all wars.
We do not learn from history
For men can always find a cause.
Why this should be a mystery.
18-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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True Heroes
There at my feet my comrade lies
as though he were but fast asleep.
Death came and took him by surprise.
All soldiers know that life is cheap.
As does each politician.
Whose lies persuade young men to go
and sign on as a fighting man.
Because they are too young to know.
Their country’s leaders are not wise.
Although they all profess to be
They all refuse to recognise
in war there is no victory.
Except the claims which death will make.
That he has added to his score
the lives he’s taken and will take.
In this and any future war.
It has been so through history.
Old men send young men to die
and praise them for their bravery
Although they lie and know they lie.
Dead heroes are of little use.
Of course we praise their memory.
It takes a brave man to refuse
to go and face the enemy.
Though some accept they will not kill
but tend wounded where they can
They are prepared to use their skill
to help not harm their fellow man.
01/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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High Price Of Hate
Got the eyes of a vulture
As you gaze from your meaningless throne
And the pain that youve been selling
Id rather die before Id own
Ill call you a doctor
Or find you a priest
cause no one can save you
And you wont get no peace
Ive felt your displeasure
And girl I used to relate
So dont hand me no anger
Ill be crushed by the weight
Thats the high price of hate
Thats the high price of hate
Lord whats the cost of my fate
Shell lay out wide open
Like a surgical knife
Ive watched it take over
Whats left of your miserable life
Shell live on deception
Your pleasures long dead
Your soul is left bleeding
From the lies that you spread
Dont pull on my collar
I wont rise to debate
Dont ask me for comfort
Youre a lifetime too late
Thats the high price of hate
Thats the high price of hate
Lord whats the cost of my fate
Oooh, theres a storm overhead
Will it ever end baby
Its all inside your head
Is it gonna end
Thats the high price of hate
Thats the high price of hate
Yeah, I hope I aint asking too late
Thats the high price of hate
Thats the high price of hate
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Soldiers Family
Today we lost another soldier, I do not know
His/her name.
Today we lost a soldier, I don’t know
From whence he/she came.
This was a soldier fighting in a war
As so many other soldiers had done this before.
It matters not what country the soldier is from.
For they no longer fight for country, but for each other.
All beliefs, religions, and honors are blown in the wind.
For war is not a joy, it is but a sin.
Once the soldier is gone, the family must live to carry on.
Wondering if it’s all been in vain
And if there was anything to gain.
The pains and the memories the families must bear
And with each other these they share.
A smile, a joke, a laughter, or two
These were the things they shared with you.
A love story or a relationship gone bad
These were the things that made them happy or sad.
A mother who inwardly cries
For it is so hard to say good-bye.
Nine months in her stomach, then tending
And caring for them and watching the child grow
This is what every mother knows.
A soldiers life is lost, but it’s not just any soldier you see
For this is the one that came from the father and me.
Yes! My child was a soldier and on the battle front they died
Trying to protect the freedom for you and I.
But let us mourn for all soldiers, for they are comrades
Who fought side by side, until the moment that they died.
It matters not if they are classified as the enemy
Death on all sides, there are so many.
They cry for their children, the same as we
And their hearts they do bleed.
If we as parents and family would be united as one
We would have these governments” under our gun”.
Until that day- we will always be “ a soldiers family”.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Day I Died
The air was close, but it would not rain
The day I died.
And smog enshrouded Gotham town
The day I died..
I should have stayed in Oceanside
The day I died.
Instead of a hellish subway ride
The day I died.
It started with a stabbing pain
The day I died.
Then waves of nausea deep inside
The day I died.
I fell to earth, I could not breathe
The day I died.
Co workers rushing to my side
The day I died.
Sirens scream on distant streets
The day I died.
bringing hosts of E.M.T.’s
The day I died..
Too late for me, this proud heart fails
The day I died.
I thought” This is the last of Earth”
The day I died.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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One Too Many
From the mistakes of the past we have not learned and war again it is being waged today
And in any war there never is a winner and for every war there is some price to pay
And everyone who dies in war is one too many whether it be soldier or civilian is the one to fall
It should not matter all people are equal and a soldier too is human after all.
Armies are still invading other Countries and this is the twenty first century
As long as we are ruled by ruthless people we never will know World harmony
There always is two sides to every story and those who cause wars must pay the transgressors price
And history will never look too kindly on those with power who have made the wrong choice.
This war to rid Iraq of Saddam Hussein is something we ought not to celebrate
How can you liberate a population if huge destruction in their Country you create,
On others you cannot impose your values by good example one can only lead
This war is hardly about liberation this war about it has the stench of greed.
Another war to start another century such a waste of human life and environmental destruction seems a shame
And of course there are two sides to every story and one side is not entirely to blame
And the Iraqi people will be the big losers it is their Country that is being destroyed
And this war like every war is very brutal and many injured and too many have died.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Us & Them
Us, and them
And after all we're only ordinary men.
Me, and you.
God only knows it's noz what we would choose to do.
Forward he cried from the rear
and the front rank died.
And the general sat and the lines on the map
moved from side to side.
Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up and down.
But in the end it's only round and round.
Haven't you heard it's a battle of words
The poster bearer cried.
Listen son, said the man with the gun
There's room for you inside.
"I mean, they're not gunna kill ya, so if you give 'em a quick short,
sharp, shock, they won't do it again. Dig it? I mean he get off
lightly, 'cos I would've given him a thrashing - I only hit him once!
It was only a difference of opinion, but really...I mean good manners
don't cost nothing do they, eh?"
Down and out
It can't be helped but there's a lot of it about.
With, without.
And who'll deny it's what the fighting's all about?
Out of the way, it's a busy day
I've got things on my mind.
For the want of the price of tea and a slice
The old man died.
song performed by by Pink Floyd from Dark Side Of The Moon (1972)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Part Of America Died
Part Of America Died
Somebody killed a soldier today
And part of America died
The child who shot him won't even be punished
After counsel asks his record not be tarnished
The flag of our country he swore to protect
Will be buried, with him, at his side
Today more of America died
The truck that he rode, was a battlefield too
A respite from a hard day at war
The flag of our nation won't fly at half staff
The purple heart they gave on his behalf
Won't change that a part of America died
Yes, Somebody killed a brave soldier today
It happened this day in a land, far away
While some slept in comfort, at home
A soldier put his life on the line
He answered the call then gave it his all
And on this day much of America died
Jim 1972
poem by James Casey
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Princeton, May, 1917
Here Freedom stood by slaughtered friend and foe,
And, ere the wrath paled or that sunset died,
Looked through the ages; then, with eyes aglow,
Laid them to wait that future, side by side.
(Lines for a monument to the American and British soldiers of the Revolutionary War who fell on the Princeton battlefield and were buried in one grave.)
Now lamp-lit gardens in the blue dusk shine
Through dogwood, red and white;
And round the gray quadrangles, line by line,
The windows fill with light,
Where Princeton calls to Magdalen, tower to tower,
Twin lanthorns of the law;
And those cream-white magnolia boughs embower
The halls of "Old Nassau."
The dark bronze tigers crouch on either side
Where redcoats used to pass;
And round the bird-loved house where Mercer died,
And violets dusk the grass,
By Stony Brook that ran so red of old,
But sings of friendship now,
To feed the old enemy's harvest fifty-fold
The green earth takes the plow.
Through this May night, if one great ghost should stray
With deep remembering eyes,
Where that old meadow of battle smiles away
Its blood-stained memories,
If Washington should walk, where friend and foe
Sleep and forget the past,
Be sure his unquenched heart would leap to know
Their souls are linked at last.
Be sure he walks, in shadowy buff and blue,
Where those dim lilacs wave.
He bends his head to bless, as dreams come true,
The promise of that grave;
Then, with a vaster hope than thought can scan,
Touching his ancient sword,
Prays for that mightier realm of God in man:
"Hasten thy kingdom, Lord.
"Land of our hope, land of the singing stars,
Type of the world to be,
The vision of a world set free from wars
Takes life, takes form from thee;
Where all the jarring nations of this earth,
Beneath the all-blessing sun,
Bring the new music of mankind to birth,
And make the whole world one."
And those old comrades rise around him there,
Old foemen, side by side,
With eyes like stars upon the brave night air,
And young as when they died,
To hear your bells, O beautiful Princeton towers,
Ring for the world's release.
They see you piercing like gray swords through flowers,
And smile, from souls at peace.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Them We Tolerate
For being different to others there is some price to pay
That's how it is and it was always that way
Many good people executed for being seen as a social threat
Since Jesus was crucified and put to death
Our own praises as a race of people we often do sing
But a truly tolerant society there is no such a thing
Because of our laws them we do tolerate
But their culture with them we'll never celebrate
Our brave soldiers who died where the gunfire was loud
We remember and honour them and of them feel proud
Their courage when in great danger of them cannot be denied
And we are told that for peace and harmony amongst people they died
But the successes and culture of those different we never celebrate
Them we do not love though them we tolerate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Blooming Shame
Still fields of scarlet poppies blow
on long abandoned battle fields.
The bones of dead men hid below
will feed their roots increasing yields.
The few survivors are now all dead.
Rejoined the comrades that they knew.
So we remember in their stead.
The many who salute the few.
Now Patch is dead he was the last
veteran who survived the war
A living relic from the past
who lived a hundred years and more.
There�s no one left who can recall
the muddy trenches and the gas.
The pain of seeing comrades fall.
He watched the long years slowly pass.
He never sought publicity.
He was a very private man
but became a celebrity
The last surviving veteran.
Each year the scarlet poppies grow
On Flanders Fields abundantly
The countless dead who lie below
Have earned their place in history.
By foolish useless sacrifice
They gave their lives to end all war
I think they paid to high a price.
The world is as it was before.
Men are still killing other men
but now much more efficiently
Each year we fail to learn again
the lessons taught by history.
There are no winners in a war.
There never was nor will there be.
But men will fight for evermore.
It�s human nature seemingly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Broken Heart
I fought for King and country
On the battlefields in France
I’d volunteered for active service
For I saw this as a chance
To earn respect from those around me
And stare death full in the face
Being brave was nothing strange to me
And fear is no disgrace
I saw the clouds of chlorine rising
As we put those gas masks on
I saw men torn from their bodies
I’ve been deafened by the guns
There was mustard gas and shrapnel
And more barbed wire than in the bush
There was dysentery and typhus
And bodies oozing pus
That mud clung to your belly
And the rats they seemed to thrive
On bodies out in no-man’s land
Of soldiers not alive
My mates - some of them blinded
Some of them blown apart
And others they just disappeared
When the barrages did start
Some days, it would fall silent
And you could hear the German side
I’d guess they would be blokes like us
Just trying to survive
You’d put your head up in the trenches
And the odds were pretty high
That a sniper that you couldn’t see
Would send you to the sky.
Some of us were lucky
But so many badly died
It didn’t seem like murder
More like wilful suicide
It was hell there in those trenches
There was no glory in that war
No victory in battle
Just stripped naked and red raw
I didn’t go alone you know
I’d gone off there with some mates
We’d gone to show our bravery
And then were told to wait.
There was so much bloody paperwork
Before we could go to fight
They didn’t make it easy
Because we were not white
I’m back now in Australia
Sometimes at night I wake in fear
I can hear the guns and all y’know
And they still seem very near
In the army I was Billy
I had a real name
Now, once again, I’m just an Abo
And my life is much the same
The white men, they look down on us
Then give our women rum
They often take advantage
Then threaten us with guns.
Man! If I just had my life again
And all my mates were here
I don’t think I’d fight in that war
Nor lose myself in beer.
For I thought I’d be respected
By the whitefellas and such
But now I simply realise
We don’t matter very much
For the war, they’d made us citizens
So we could play our part
Now it’s over that’s been taken back
And I have a broken heart.
poem by David Keig
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With God On Our Side
Oh my name it is nothin
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the midwest
Its taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side.
Oh the history books tell it
They tell it so well
The cavalries charged
The indians fell
The cavalries charged
The indians died
Oh the country was young
With God on its side.
Oh the spanish-american
War had its day
And the civil war too
Was soon laid away
And the names of the heroes
Is made to memorize
With guns in their hands
And God on their side.
Oh the first world war, boys
It closed out its fate
The reason for fighting
I never got straight
But I learned to accept it
Accept it with pride
For you dont count the dead
When gods on your side.
When the second world war
Came to an end
We forgave the germans
And we were friends
Though they murdered six million
In the ovens they fried
The germans now too
Have God on their side.
Ive learned to hate russians
All through my whole life
If another war starts
Its them we must fight
To hate them and fear them
To run and to hide
And accept it all bravely
With God on my side.
But now we got weapons
Of the chemical dust
If fire them were forced to
Then fire them we must
One push of the button
And a shot the world wide
And you never ask questions
When gods on your side.
In a many dark hour
Ive been thinkin about this
That jesus christ
Was betrayed by a kiss
But I cant think for you
Youll have to decide
Whether judas iscariot
Had God on his side.
So now as Im leavin
Im weary as hell
The confusion Im feelin
Aint no tongue can tell
The words fill my head
And fall to the floor
If gods on our side
Hell stop the next war.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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