The War

The following poem was written by Michael Connolly of Transition Monaghan.

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The war is almost over

Final victory is in sight

So long in the waging

It’s our way of life

When first we did battle

With hand and club and stone

Succumb did the enemy

Though we were alone

Now we be many

And they are few

Now our weapons be colossal

And for them extinction beckons

The great machine now autonomous

Consumes all, everywhere

And defecates its toxic wastes

into land and sea and air

It drives all before it

Nought stands its way

Forests fall, rivers dry, oceans empty

Mountains laid low

Captured it our brethren

To serve our bloody needs

Products we have made them

Value only as corpse

Imprisoned in pitiless pen

More factory than farm

More dead than alive

Maybe mindless beasts we be

So it is that we are winning

of that there’s little doubt

But in victory’s ashes lie

Conquest bereft of gain

Caught we be by progress

A snare of our own devise

The struggle makes it tighten

Smart may-be but not wise

Though the planet be our home

We be callous to our host

Hot she gets on our abuse

Effects profound do oust

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