Below is the poem entitled Another Day, Another War which was written by poet
Chaifetz. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Another day, another war, is that all that this life is for?
Bury the dead, embrace the dread, and even up the score?
The list of famous battles makes it seem like war is life.
That the dead, who’ve lost their heads, haven’t met with strife.
The generals tell their pawns to take the ground up high.
Doesn’t matter, the dead in tatters, achieved what will belie
Those in command, don’t take a stand, they have others that will die
Marching to their deaths, on their comrades they rely.
If we killed all the leaders that think that war is surely grand.
It wouldn’t take a few hours for others to take their command.
And their point of view will be no different than before.
Kill all those that us oppose, and let them live no more.
There have been a few, whose voices have been silenced.
Who spoke such cowards’ words, opposed to our honest violence?
If it were not for government’s power and justifiable way of killing.
You, my friend, in the end, would not continue living.
Accept your fate, try to relate, there is no end to war.
Peace on earth, won’t come first, it’s killing that we’re for.
Murder all that oppose us, silence their every dream.
They’re not part of what we believe, our vicious angry scheme.
Are you still breathing, still believing, in a life that’s just?
Have you found an honest leader in whose your life you trust?
If you’re alive today, come what may, consider yourself a lucky one.
For there are many here amongst us whose life has come and gone.
America, The Beautiful, paid its dues in centuries gone past.
The Civil War, what was it for? Slavery? Freedom? All aghast.
Maybe war won’t happen here, maybe we’ll be saved.
And won’t have to bury many, put them in their grave.
I, for one, a lonely sole, cannot grasp God’s plan.
That every day is for killing and no one gives a damn.
That I should wake every day wondering how many more are dead.
What was the reason, twas the season, their voices now unsaid.