POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Lemmings

Some things never seem to change, despite the lessons of history,
That gleeful mass procession, of men marching off to war,
At the first reverberation, of the pounding drum of impending conflict,
Like lemmings approaching the cliff edge, oblivious of what truly lies beyond.
In cheerful innocence, eagerly excited at the collective prospect,
Of honour and glory to be won, of duty and hardship to endure.
Flags flying, bands playing, pretty young maidens cheering for me,
A man marching to war with his comrades, to defend his loved ones and motherland.
The dreams of a boy, to awaken a man in the hell of war,
The ribbon façade now gone, blitz krieged by man’s ingenuity,
In the mechanisms of death, to be ascertained and avoided.
A nightmare journey to the underworld, a Hades adventure,
Wandering through the labyrinth, in the shadow of the minotaur.
To what end, profit and experience, collective duty and glory,
A karmic debt and sacrifice, for the greater good, or something.