Brother Lusciou Poem by Mark Heathcote

Ah, brother Luscious is playing with the dead.
His tears are rolling from his worried mind.
Because he doesn't understand all he can see.
His toys are tanks and military war dreams.
Killing machines, you know, the kind. 'Poison to the mind.'
But he didn't realise all these bleared lines
They are not all lies; they are playthings made to kill us, too.
One and all.

January's full moon is known as the Wolf Moon.
Tonight, it's glowing red with the open caskets of the dead.
But now, brother Luscious, it's time for bed.
Don't you worry, your head?
The Victors are waving flags and pronouncing
They've saved the world for me and you.

Brother Luscious, today we're blessed.
Forget about all the rest.
Brother Luscious, today we're blessed.
Our nation frees the righteous and the oppressed.
Brother Luscious, today we're blessed.
No bombs will wake us up from our sleep.
Brother Luscious praises the Lord.
There are no slag-heaps of dead limbs around you or me.
Brother Luscious, today we're blessed.
Forget about all the rest.
It's only earthly toys today, I guess.
So brother Luscious feel blest tonight.
Brother Luscious, whose name means light?
God bless and goodnight, one and all.
Peace be with you.