Pipes Of Peace Poem by Mad Gone

Hear the proudly marching feet,
thump and pound our shallow streets.
Listen to the shrilling flutes
and think of how they resemble brutes.
See the child march boldly at the fore,
while you hear the onlookers gaily roar.
wave the flag, throw the stick,
Why it all but makes me sick!

New soldiers for the fight,
Shiny uniforms – Oh! what a sight.
Onward Christian solders rise,
Come and claim your god forsaken prize.
For Queen or country – who decides?
All but for where you should reside.
Follow grandparents in their shoes,
and the schooling they did not choose.

Who were the teachers in that day?
What right had they to dictate our childish play?
Given silly names and tags of hate,
Understanding came, I fear, much too late.
‘Good fences make good neighbours’
the poet once declared.
Why not knock said fence down,
And make new friends if you dared.

The yellow monsters’ arm portrays,
and watched over us as we played.
Living, breathing, full of life,
Not aware of the looming strife.
Fires burn amber in the dead of night,
as devils children talk of the fight.
sit down and gather around friends,
For we will now but make amends.

Pied Piper led, and hatred fed,
In the stolen car they sped.
The cauldron stirred, amendment made?
Righteousness in early morning - fades.
A new dawn follows in the morn,
but, this is now filled with only scorn.
So let the worn out drums cease,
and let the flutes play songs of peace.