In War Winners Are Losers
The winners write the war history or so it has been said
And though they may have their celebrations they cannot bring back the dead
For the dead are gone forever in eternal rest they lay
And in war winners are losers despite what some do think or say,
In war the one winner is hatred and old hatreds linger on for years
And the mothers for their dead soldiers are left to shed their tears
The last post may be played for them on war memorial day
But they will not hear the bugler all is so quiet where they lay,
They went to the reaper early and they faced death without fear
And of stories of their bravery we do so often hear
But those who sent them off to war were those who stood to gain
And though the young heroes died bravely their premature deaths were in vain
For war it is still being waged and the huge sacrifice they made
Only rally the troops for war in another war parade.
poem by Francis Duggan
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By Those Interested In War History
By those interested in war history war history is read
But the winners write the war history or so it is said
That is how it is and will always be
What is true to one is not to another that's how it seems to me
Of war and war heroes many stories are written and many poems to recite
And mostly of war winners that war writers stories do write
And readers believe what they want to believe
And the mothers of the war dead for their dead children grieve
In war as in life 'tis the winners who count
And the stories of losers to little amount
For the dead war heroes many a parade
And far too many films of war have been made
And 'tis mostly the winners write the war history
That is how it is and always will be.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The War Winners
The war winners always write the war history and as for those in war who have known defeat
They never do know of adulation and with a sad ending they meet
Arrested and tried for war crimes and executed for crimes against humanity
The victorious war leaders are feted as heroes though they seem no less guilty to me
Than those who are known as war losers in war far too many do die
And that the victorious of war crimes not guilty in truth of course only a lie
How can the one who order the bombings that killed thousands of people be seen as one quite free of taint
When they are guilty of mass murder and a murderer cannot be a saint
Why do we make heroes of villians two wrongs never do make a right
Though the winner is always the hero that's how it is in every fight
And the war dead with tears are remembered and the war mothers weep for their dead
Though their dead children helped to win the war and good things of them have been said.
The war winners write the war history that's how it is and it will always be
But history itself keeps repeating of war will we ever be free
If the victorious war leaders were not treated as heroes and for their war crimes arrested and tried
We may not have had war in the first place and so many young people may not have died.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Anzac Day
Patriotic men and women from sixty down to sixteen
Rode proudly on their horses in the famed Anzac green
Followed by the women of the Red Cross in their renowned white and red
On this day every April they honour the war dead.
Up to the war memorial where a large crowd stand around
And at the front of the congregation old 'Diggers' to be found
Old veterans of World war 2 they show their years in gray
Their war medals pinned to their lapels their bravery on display.
A lone bugler played the last post to honour the war dead
And an old man who was standing near i saw him bow his head
And tears were trickling down his face his thoughts were far away
Some noble men who were his friends in foreign Country lay.
We are gathered here this morning the ageing speaker said
To commemorate true heroes our great and brave war dead
They made the ultimate sacrifice and at a young age they did die
And we have them in part to thank for the freedom we enjoy
For our soldiers who died in foreign wars for their souls let us pray
It's only to remember them that we have Anzac day
Their bones may lay in foreign fields but in history they survive
And the spirit of the Anzac is still very much alive.
He thanked the old war veterans who marched in the parade
How can we thank you enough for the sacrifice you've made
You risked your lives in cause of peace 'we salute you today'
You noble men who won the war in Country far away.
He thanked the red cross women the finest in the Land
And the bugler who played 'The Last Post' and the six piece marching band
And the horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And he asked the band to finish up by playing 'God save the Queen'.
And the band played 'God save the Queen' but not 'Advance Australia Fair'
And i who doesn't believe in war could only feel aware
That in Britain they don't play the Australian anthem when they honour their war dead
Was it for Britain or Australia that young Aussie blood was shed? .
The horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And the bugler played the last post and the band played 'God Save The Queen'.
And a war veteran spoke of Aussie war dead their bones in Europe lay
At least they are remembered still on every Anzac Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At The Grave Of The Unknown Soldier
He was a brave soldier he died young and brave
And for more than six decades he lay in his grave
And still at the dawning of each war memorial day
At his grave site a young bugler the last post does play.
Known as the Unknown Soldier one without a name
Still he had a mum and a dad just the same
And when he did not return home when the fighting was done
They grieved at their loss and they wept for their son.
The war to end all wars of all wars 'tis said
But more wars are fought and we have more war dead
And at the grave of the unknown soldier the last post is played
And to honour the war dead another parade.
Old war men do tell us young soldiers fight and die
For freedom and liberty that is a lie
They went to war when young they are now old and gray
Some grow old not wiser some are known to say.
That they were fighting for freedom and justice they believed to be true
And they were quite gallant to give them their due
But many deprived of their human rights in the World of today
And that does seem a very sad thing for to say.
With heads bowed old men showing their years in gray
At the grave of the Unknown Soldier at the dawn of the day
In silence do listen as a young bugler the last post does play
For one who fought and died in a war far away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Losers Never Write The War History
The losers never write the war history that's something we already know
Yet for the many wars fought through the ages we do not have the wisdom to show
That victory too comes at a huge cost for war the price is huge to pay
For families who grieve for their dead members their sense of loss with them will stay
Until they themselves go to the reaper the reaper who claims one and all
The loved one war had taken from them with great sadness they will recall
But the dead to life cannot be returned better to live as a coward than die brave
For none has yet come back for to tell us that there is a life beyond the grave,
They died for their God and their Country of dead war heroes some well may brag
Those who place too much worth on the unknowable and the colour of their Nation's flag
I for one find religion and patriotism confusing of god and war heroes hymns and songs are sung
But surely it is a misnomer that only the good do die young
And yet from war we have not learned young lives are lost for wars to be won
And if lasting peace ever does come it won't be through the barrel of a gun
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Glorify War Heroes
Though talk of war and death and such I do not wish to hear
To glorify war heroes we have the balladeer
The old men displaying their medals march on war memorial day
Though they look tired and weary now and they are old and gray.
They weep for comrades who died young in battles far away
Young men who were buried in mass graves their bones far from home lay
'Tis said they died in freedom's cause though many with that do not agree
Since any lessons have not been learned from man's war history.
Each time I listen to the news the headlines mostly bad
A suicide bombing in Palestine a car bombing in Baghdad
More atrocities with a direct link to terrorism to many it would seem
But to those who give their own lives to kill the fulfilment of a heroic dream.
Of suffering and deaths linked to war so much has been written and said
And wives and mothers in the World today still mourn their war dead
And still the soldiers come back home to a victory parade
For people who shoot at other people too much respect is paid.
poem by Francis Duggan
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That Most Humans Crave For Glory
That most humans crave for glory is surely not a lie
And though you well may love your Country for your Country why should you die
Since dead heroes like dead cowards cannot help their Country in any way
Whilst alive you can help your Country even though you look old and gray
The dead hero cannot hear the bugler when the last post it is played
Though some may say his ghost is present at every war parade
The deserter is dishonoured from the fight he ran away
But to his Country he's of some use he's alive and well today
The dead hero he is honoured though to him that of no use
For to justify their recent war the war leaders use the war dead as an excuse
For another bloody battle a war they themselves will not fight in
Though in every war that ever was humanity did not win
You cannot serve your Country by dying for it so live for as long as you can
And die hopefully a painless death as a very old man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Winners Are Always The Heroes
The winners are always the heroes in life it is always this way
The losers are quickly forgotten though a fine and sporting
game they did play
'Tis only a sport it may well seem where people chase after a ball
But many take football quite seriously though 'tis only a game after all,
The winners are always the heroes and that's how it always will be
The fans of the winners are singing rejoicing in their victory
Life and sports are akin in many ways though some may say 'tis only a game
The winners get all of the applause and the winners can bask in their fame,
The winners are always the heroes and the winners get all of the praise
And always only to the winners the toasters their toasting glasses raise
The losers are quickly forgotten though some must lose for some to win
Yet some look on losing as shameful to them there is no greater sin,
In life as in sport the poor losers are the people the masses ignore
And in football the really big hero is the one who kicks the winning score.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We Need Fear For Survival
Of valour on the battlefield and in other ways we hear
But only the most foolhardy one would never know of fear
We need fear for survival may they rest in peace the brave
Their reward for their bravery the cold and darkness of the grave.
We need fear for survival the very brave are dead
And little use to them 'twould seem if good things of them are said
We need a bit of fear in us in order to stay alive
Few of the brave to a ripe old age have been known to survive.
I'd rather live to a ripe old age than have died young and brave
We need a bit of fear in us for to keep cheating the grave
Why would you even wish to die though your better days are long gone
Our will to live is always strong and it keeps us keeping on.
The fear of death is a healthy fear the brave seem to die young
Though of no use to the deceased if their praises are sung
In their graves they do never hear the bugler for them play
They lay in peace forever more that's life as some might say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We've Not Learned From War History The Facts Never Lie
We've not learned from war history the facts never lie
For God and for Country many still fight and die
The flowers do not bloom brighter on the dead soldier's grave
As the one who died of old age and was not known to be brave.
With the words we've not learned from war history
I happen to be one of those who agree
One war leads to another it does seem to me
And we still have War Memorial day in the twenty first century.
Where there is mistrust between people hatred come to the boil
In war over borders and war over oil
And in wars over God far too many have died
To antiquated thinking many do remain tied.
Out of war and it's suffering many heroes are made
And to honour the war dead another parade
And for as long as those who glorify war do have things their own way
The flower of peace will never see light of day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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All Dead, All Dead
Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winners & Losers
Pop/Jones
Winners and losers which one am I,
is it the same under the sky?
black motorcycles and the will to survive
losers and winners low and high
in this glass and wire world
surely leeches gain the right
to send their message screaming
one that has no meaning
to people who feel
questions and questions plain as your nose
but who would believe a little rose?
winners and losers in love with themselves
no santa claus no happy elves
in this smoking gun existence
it gets harder to unwind
i'll just eat my breakfast
try to keep my questions
starving all night
out in the suburbs i met
my true fine love
down in the suburbs i met
my true fine love
she gave me money
she gave me head
she gave my everything
and then she went dead
stick out your thumb
and hit the open road
cat in a mercedes
goes by, he's old
he's got some, you got none
together maybe you can have
some fun-winners and losers
gentlemen boozers
winners and losers
roll roll roll roll
roll your money down
rock rock rock rock
takln' over this town
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winners & Losers
Pop/jones
Winners and losers which one am i,
Is it the same under the sky?
Black motorcycles and the will to survive
Losers and winners low and high
In this glass and wire world
Surely leeches gain the right
To send their message screaming
One that has no meaning
To people who feel
Questions and questions plain as your nose
But who would believe a little rose?
Winners and losers in love with themselves
No santa claus no happy elves
In this smoking gun existence
It gets harder to unwind
I'll just eat my breakfast
Try to keep my questions
Starving all night
Out in the suburbs i met
My true fine love
Down in the suburbs i met
My true fine love
She gave me money
She gave me head
She gave my everything
And then she went dead
Stick out your thumb
And hit the open road
Cat in a mercedes
Goes by, he's old
He's got some, you got none
Together maybe you can have
Some fun-winners and losers
Gentlemen boozers
Winners and losers
Roll roll roll roll
Roll your money down
Rock rock rock rock
Takln' over this town
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr Tony Blair
Like every British Prime Minister he has purpose in his stare
And few are as good at talking tough as Mr Tony Blair
Once the World's greatest Empire to much now does not amount
And lessons that are in the past are never taken into account.
The British Government once took part of Iraq and formed a new State
And re-named Iraq's nineteenth province the Kingdom of Kuwait
And one war leads to another war look at Iraq today
A land ravaged by war where the Brits play a major part along with the U S A.
The winners always write the history in Ireland Cromwell left his trail of shame
But like every other war winner he did not take any blame
For the diplacement and deaths of thousands of innocent people streets signs now honour his ill fame
Yet in England's sister Country his is still a loathed name.
And the old tradition of waging war carried on by Mr Blair
In this wrongful war waged in Iraq he is a major player
And Saddam was the loser his statue was dragged down
If he had won today he'd be the God of Baghdad Town.
Can the likes of Bush and Blair and Johnny Howard bring back to life their war dead?
They only have the power for to take life enough of them is said
They are as bad as Saddam who is deservedly in disgrace
But the winners only write the war history and that always is the case.
Perhaps he will live to a ripe old age and the good life he'll enjoy
And for his victories in war as a hero he will die
And in years from now there will be streets named after Tony Blair
When all is said and all is done doesn't life seem so unfair?
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Winners Write The History
That the winners write the war histories should not be the case
For war is a tragedy a human disgrace
And the losers in war see their Country destoyed
And the war history never written by the losing side.
Look at Oliver Cromwell victorious in war
The deeds of his glory from England known far
But those who write on Cromwell they never do tell
Of one who for poor people made life Earthly hell.
To the Catholics of Ireland Cromwell was a brute
The poor rural peasants he did persecute
Yet streets in his honour distant from England today
The winners only write the history so true what they say.
Efrain Rios Montt became President of Guatemala even though he
Was guilty of serious crimes against humanity
An old man now but for his crimes yet to pay
The winners write the history it's always been that way.
Augusto Pinochet in Chile has blood on his hands
And that he may die a free man seems hard to understand
And though loathed by many in Chile for his crimes of shame
The winners write the history and their's is the fame.
I've just mentioned a few for there are many more
Who have committed crimes against humanity but like it has been said before
that the winners write the history and that's how 'twill remain
And the mistakes of the past are repeated again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Last Post.
The last post sounds and echoes round.
The neat and well kept burial ground.
Head stones in rows beneath the sky
to mark where our dead heroes lie.
Standing as if still on parade.
Each headstone looking newly made.
It is one way we show respect.
No more no less than I expect
Head stones don’t only signify
that battle weary soldiers die
They also serve who wait for men
who will not see their home again.
The last post makes us realise
That war destroys their families.
Each time I hear the last post sound
I’m filled with sadness so profound.
Tears spring unbidden from my eyes,
they always take me by surprise.
I’m not ashamed to let them flow
Because I’m old enough to know.
That real men aren’t afraid to cry
Despite the ancient common lie.
That men don’t let emotions show
and should not let their tear drops flow.
When I hear the last post sound
I can recall the battle ground.
Where so many comrades still lie
in foreign fields beneath the sky.
The last post serves to honour all
brave soldiers who sadly fall.
Not only friends but enemies.
Death selects quite randomly.
Young widows weep and mothers cry.
They have the right and so do I.
Tuesday,31 August 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Just One More Dead Hero
So much about his courage we have heard of and read
So sad about the brave man so sad to hear he's dead
A decorated soldier from a war far away
The Reaper claimed the life from him suppose he had his day
One the nationalists and patriots used to celebrate
But with the coward and the traitor he shared a common fate
Not one to respect money or bravery or fame
To the Reaper the life of the coward and the hero are equal and the same
Though memories of the man he was will take some time to fade
Next year he won't be around to march in the war veterans parade
Ninety two when he died his best days long gone
Just one more dead hero and life does go on
The coward and the hero and those of wealth and fame
Are made equal by the Reaper he treats them as the same.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Hero Is Dead
Many people the praises of warriors do sing
And they talk of war as if war is a good thing
There are tears in their eyes when the last post is played
And proudly they march in every war parade
Every day in war zones more people do die
And the war supposed to end all wars was based on a lie
And more wars are waged now than ever before
The lessons of history we tend to ignore
The coward from the battle turned and ran away
But the hero is dead and the coward lives today
They talk of the heroes in battles lost and won
But in war there's no winner when all is said and done
From the heat of the battle the coward ran away
But he is a very proud grand-dad today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Just False Patriotism
'Tis true to the dead that respect we should show
But they still honour men who died ninety years ago
For a dubious cause in Lands far away
But the war that was supposed to end all wars is re-lived today.
In that war it is said a million people died
And in such needless slaughter why do we take pride
At the war memorial the last post is played
And the long war dead are honoured with one more parade.
Those who march for peace it does seem to me
Do more for the betterment of humanity
Than those who go to war memorials to honour the long dead
Far too much about war has been written and said.
Just false patriotism to me this does seem
A boost to big egos and to self esteem
The mistakes of war are repeated today
And people are dying in war zones far away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Passing Cromwell Street
In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.
He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.
In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.
To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.
I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.
Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.
In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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