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Mankind’s Greed

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 In foggy marshes of distant lands,

Or deep forests, or burning sands,

Man various means will ever employ

His only world to destroy.

Buzz of arrows, clang of sword on shield,

Twang of bow and cries of "Yield!"

Death was an iron-clad knight

On his steed, black as night.

His siege-engines from afar he drags,

And spares no-one, not even hags.

A mounting path of fire

Doesn't curb his desire.

A peaceful land attracts him most,

Soon it becomes a burnt-out ghost.

Round tower and castle wall,

Before his onslaught, will crumble and fall.

The flower of youth, mothers beg him to stay,

But the fever of battle calls him away.

The clarion calls, the war-drums beat,

His blood is up, there's no time to eat!

Now on his horse, sitting proud,

By the end of the day will be in a shroud.

Beautiful trappings, delicate plumes

Soon become grubby and wilt in the fumes.

Man against man, empires come and go,

Why does he fight? We'll never know.

Despite his courage and bravery,

Chooses his sword, and not slavery.

Another, less fortunate, to his king's flag will rally,

Later finds himself chained to an oar, in a galley.

On overlooking the field of the battle,

One sees bloody corpses, like slaughtered cattle.

Mothers, young maidens, for their loved ones weep,

As they lay them out for everlasting sleep.

Where their blood seeped, lovely flowers will rise

But will ne'er be seen by their warrior eyes.

Man enslaves man, kingdoms rise and fall,

Today a king, tomorrow – on the gibbet tall.

Ever hungry more to acquire,

He stops at nothing to fulfill his desire.

There were bows and arrows, axes, double-edged blades,

Screams of agony and victory were heard through the glades.

Now rockets whoosh past, 'copters' blades chop the air,

Death is still final, whether here or there.

A cry of pain is the same, echoing down through the years

Suffering too brings the same burning, aching tears.

Why can't man various means employ

His only world to preserve, not destroy.



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Monday, 20 May 2024

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