A DAY IN HELL

They say that war is Hell
And no-one good survives,
Who can exist a day in Hell?
Where nothing decent thrives.

Good men go to fight and die
But bad men start the wars,
Evil profit mongers cash in
While the decent die in scores.

Sadistic profiteers rejoice
Making fortunes selling weapons,
Fine men go to be slaughtered
As the Reaper's finger beckons.

Foul old men sitting at home
Sending their grandsons out to die,
A day, a month, a year in Hell
It's all the same to boys who cry.

Evil elders control the lives
Of youngsters sent off to war,
To fight the Carmies?   Or Nazis?
No-one really knows what for.

Burning corpses fill the land
Human ashes fill the sky,
The good hiding underground
While war-mongers live on high.

The game of death goes ever on
Racketeers depending on it,
Gambling with the lives of men
All in the Godless name of profit.

A day in Hell can last twenty years
As soldiers are dying for naught,
Just take the profit out of war
So no more wars will ever be fought.

THE END
© Copyright 2022 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia