Not a Patch
The anthem of today’s bored youth
pulsates to the beat of disco drums.
Boy soldiers slouch in silence before
the salient of the computer screen,
fighting online battles
with comrades in armchairs.
Enlivened by this false adrenaline
their roll of honour the high score board.
In their busy lives they have no time
for the straight backed old men
at the thousand cenotaphs
with medals, berets, wreaths
and memories of last moments, vivid as yesterday,
of comrades who died in arms and lived real lives,
their anthem the Last Post
played to the beat of the funeral drum.
Wilfred, Siegfried, Rupert
Wrote the poetry and died.
But late in life Harry spoke the truth
“Too many died. War isn’t worth one life”.
