France I
The emptiness is left with no resolve
for all the stars in Heaven have maligned.
Your God has let morality devolve
into the darkest days of humankind.
A war to end all wars has spawned revenge,
the madness seeks to dominate the sphere.
Insanity has reckoned on a binge,
relentless in its quest to persevere.
Your sons deploy to front the roaring wind
that pummeled Polish walls into debris.
Alliance rears with honor to defend,
for Gallic might has heard your doleful plea.
‘Tis destiny a vengeance would unveil
from hence the war where trust in treaties quail.
From hence the war where trust in treaties quail,
vendetta churns its magnitude of sin.
His war machine will equal it in scale
as terror’s domination spurns within.
The battle’s front lies just beyond the wall
that shields you from his devastating wrath.
And all the rage of hellfire will befall
upon those souls that dare to trek its path.
But dare be damned when strategy is fleet,
it causes grand design to go awry.
Your fortress walls face nothing but defeat
for arrogance intends to pass it by.
The fires of war are left with no resolve
thus, from its ashes, vile regimes evolve.
Thus, from the ashes, vile regimes evolve
to sate a void and seed a hungry wave.
A pulpit rage lets common sense dissolve
as propaganda feeds us what we crave.
‘Tis mere illusion seeking out a pawn
with fabricated anguish and reprise.
‘Tis but a tactic hate is built upon
with promise of salvation as its guise.
Such promises are built upon deceit
that mock the tide he claims to represent,
but demagogues shall not obscure conceit
from moral hearts with ethical intent.
His merciless intentions will unveil
as all the world stands by to watch us fail.
As all the world stands by to watch us fail
your Gallic braves invade a despot’s soil.
And into Belgium, gallant sons assail
to front the retribution in this broil.
Your forces hailed to charge the iron awe
then seize advantage from a pressing foe,
and if denied, dear France could never fall
for nothing will defeat the Maginot.
But iron might rolled o’er your roaring tide
and forced your taut battalions to retreat.
His covet rage was not to be denied
for in his mind all Europe ‘waits defeat.
A vengeful voice, with vision, shall revise
your Nation’s dream, once altered by demise.
Your Nation’s dream, once altered by demise,
fell victim to the solace days of peace.
The greatest war had darkened Gallic skies
and negligence let innovation cease.
A callow faith would lead you to believe
a tranquil League could hold peace in accord,
but once again ineptness would deceive
as consequence commenced to hail its sword.
But allied trust in treaties was not frayed
for coalition fed the battle’s fire.
Though British might allied your French brigade,
‘twas nay enough to stall Germanic ire.
When obsolescence falters in the row,
let hope rely upon your Maginot.
Copyright ©
Mark Massey
|