The below poem was written by Leslie Coulson. For those who dont know, he was an English journalist and a poet of the First World War. I am currently reading In Flanders Fields which features this poem.
I wanted to share this poem as I feel this is just as poignant now as it was then, possibly more so as we never seem to learn from our terrible mistakes.
Who made the Law that men should die in shadows ?
Who spake the word that blood should splash in lanes ?
Who gave it forth that gardens should be bone-yards ?
Who spread the hills with flesh, and blood, and brains ?
Who made the Law ?
Who made the Law that Death should stalk the village ?
Who spake the word to kill among the sheaves,
Who gave it forth that death should lurk in hedgerows,
Who flung the dead among the fallen leaves ?
Who made the Law ?
But who made the Law ? the Trees shall whisper to him:
‘See, see the blood – the splashes on our bark !’
Walking the meadows, he shall hear bones crackle,
And fleshless mouths shall gibber in silent lanes at dark.
Who made the Law ? At noon upon the hillside
His ears shall hear a moan, his cheeks shall feel a breath,
And all along the valleys, past gardens, croft, and homesteads,
HE who made the Law,
He who made the Law,
He who made the Law
shall walk along with Death.
WHO made the Law ?
Video sourced from YouTube channel – Starte Christ
Up, after extra 4-minute lie in,
Extra butter, its Saturday,
Bring iPad in bathroom,
14 mins later,
Only play half of one song,
Clothes, scruffy wear, shop wear,
Not bothered how I look wear
Is so incredibly, mystifyingly, bothered.
Drive to food shop,
Slight weekend euphoria in the air,
Remember that thing that needs sorting,
Merry go round it starts to turn in my head,
Stress about thing,
Plan to do an easier thing.
Back to food shop drive,
Man, with yappy demanding dog,
Wait no, my mistake,
That’s his child, drinking an energy drink,
No doubt a potential future genius,
Or failing that,
Placed on the spectrum somewhere,
Early morning runner smashing #goals, coming in the opposite direction,
Incredibly depressed once, not anymore,
Arrive at shop,
Shop the for big shop,
Big Saturday shop,
Rock and roll.
Knows the isles of by heart,
Head for something over on that rack.
See man getting it in the ear,
From his darling
Oh dear, poor bloke,
I reckon he is called Nigel, looks like a Nigel, was a wild-eyed wanderer back in the day,
What day was that Nigel?
Don’t ask him, he can’t remember, the memory has been pecked out of him.
Engage evasive manoeuvres for lady pushing pram,
Sorry I didn’t move quick enough,
I will dive faster next time,
Mother with child everyone, coming through! I call,
To alert the others in her path,
He dosent look at me the same path,
He likes that woman in work I know he does path,
She’s younger path,
Should never have had kids’ path,
Can’t you see I have a pram?
Hit till now,
Right, let’s have it,
Fire my items down the black rolling strip to the tone of the beep,
Person on check out dosent even register me,
Registers everything else though,
Hawk eye, fastest scanner in the West,
Already guessed amount,
Being the “Rain Man” shopper I am,
Pack car with items,
What did I forget?
I always do,
To hell with it, I’ll just have to chance it,
I got to get out of here,
Sweat forming on back,
I can’t go back,
They will all know I forgot something,
Followed by the subtle eye roll.
I am off,
Worst case scenario,
I can stop at another shop,
Solved that crisis,
Like a champion.
Copyright © 2018 Charlie Hasler.
Sourced from YouTube Channel – Eagle Rock
You may think you are cool, but you will never be Bob Dylan, wearing shades, smoking a cigarette and playing guitar cool.