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Man with sword no horse or gun and a small pension. A boy yet to die

We are still at war Or This man could die

 

Who cares?

 

Here stands

soon to lay

 

with honours

 

a young man

plainly

a boy

 

unknown

 

in Horse Guards

without a horse

 

19, 20 or not

 

Tops

 

a trooper

on parade

for smiling tourists

and sundry

other

trigger happy

passersby

 

in Whitehall

 

where mandarins

and

shitty politicians

plot

their millionaire pots

 

where

 

no one bothers to ask

His name

His loves

 

or aspirations

 

Nor does he speak

of

His ambition

 

to survive

 

To drink

another

blood warm pint

kiss his mother

have a wife

 

Forced to leave

with no time

to say

goodbye

to his father

unhugged

unkissed

 

Body burst apart

finally

found

bits

in a box

with red white and blue

and a cap

medals

 

A flag

on top

 

His pension

unlike theirs

is no pain no gain

 

stock stiff

and alert

 

He stands

erect

today

 

Only shot at

by

cheap plastic cameras

 

Tomorrow

 

It

will be different

 

Another boy

will die in a foreign field

shot through by steel

   

The words are mine

the eyes are his

 

And as ever

for

The Blues and Royals

my friends

by sentiment

adopted

from childhood

 

the boys

the girls

have swords

and guns

 

I have a pen

 

Feel free

to

fight me

with

words

 

I will stand

happily

with them

with only ideas

in the front line

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Taken on November 22, 2007