CCA image
by Ellis Poole
So skilled are we in warlike arts;
at rending flesh and stopping hearts,
we sell our wares to those inclined
to death and war and genocide.
We think ourselves a moral trade –
through well-waged war true peace is made,
and so we must persist and sell
the means to please our allies well.
And if some thousand children fall,
well, war well-waged is fair to all
and all may shriek and weep and cry,
all may despair and all may die.
We root our business in pretence,
we call it just or self-defence;
the cities rubble, fire and rust,
babies greying in the dust,
we sell and sell, they die and die
the bones and blood and ashes cry
out
for God’s sake
mercy
is
in short supply, we know that well,
we’ve none at home, and none to sell.
