It's time I stood and spoke of war,
A candid speech display.
To tell you things you used to know;
Forgotten, on the way.
I hear they plan to have a trial
Of criminal intent.
Displaying soldiers in a cage,
Who blessed this sad event?
They say they did a most foul deed
By killing innocents.
Just retribution, as they say;
An evil consequence.
Its time I lay to rest, at last,
A base canard of life.
That war is one more legal way
To deal with pain and strife.
I hate to put it bluntly now,
But most of you won't hear;
If I would only gently speak
These words you need not fear.
Some time ago, a wisdom born
Of death and man's intent;
Was fostered on the souls of men
To hasten their descent.
It said that there are crimes of war
That men must never do.
And perpetrated, in this way;
A values dream, or two.
By doing this, they justified
The basest deed of all.
And legalized, with mal intent;
Man's certain, deadly fall.
I'm here to tell you true at last,
What you already know.
The concept there are crimes of war,
Has never thus been so.
Whatever deed is done in war,
As jusified by man;
Is covered in the book of faith,
As per the Master's plan.
There is no deed a man may do
In war that's his intent.
The moral choice was duly made
The day that he was sent.
Man makes his choice when he decides
To yield his soul to man.
And joins them in the enterprise
Of evil deeds they plan.
When after yielding up his soul,
He then is sent to war;
It doesn't matter what he does,
He can't yield anymore.
There is no crime he can commit
Against his fellow man.
No grading of the deeds he does.
In Hell, there is no fan.
So let me bluntly tell you true.
And take this to your graves.
The only roads there are to Hell,
Are those which war sure paves.
It's war itself, that is the crime;
That dooms mens souls to Hell.
The laughs you hear, they come from me;
It's war, that needs a cell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.