dimanche 30 janvier 2011

From Hillock to Hillock

It’s because you like words.
No, it’s because I like shooting the breeze.
I don’t care about the wording
As long as it quotes my twaddle right.

Remember this peace force story.
The enemies on both sides of the ditch
In the middle, safe and cozy, blue helmets.
This had now gone on for quite a while
The enemies every so often a little firing
At each other, a little hassling, a little teasing
From knob to knob, a rather tepid game but
Still a duty, with betimes a little casualty
To justify the service pay, while in between them
Down below, the peace force mostly had lunch.
At one point, one of the enemies, I forgot who
Must have gotten a little aggravated
Started aiming at the peace force, so
In the middle, so in between, so
Very much lunching in the valley beneath.
Snap! Vis-à-vis, same bright idea, oh
That is the beauty of war, peacekeeping friend
All at once under fire from both sides. Yet the
Fellows stayed polite, didn’t shoot that close, they
Just spoiled the light azure repast a little bit.
That’s how a peace force may manage to create
Spasmodic entente between continuous enemies.

A simple story, told by one in the enemies.

If enmity is as broad as peace force is long
Who wouldn’t prefer the latter over the former
When it’s about setting oneself an aim?
Establishing an emplacement generates interval, it is
Like spreading one’s legs, same position as
That’s where the blue helmets come in.
And any sort of sack lunch.

Don’t mind the wording, the brave soldier said.
The war we are in is a war of attrition
Desultory, sporadic, as is most insight or afflatus.
There is no other means for achieving concord
Than following every now and then
Our natural inclination.

January 29, 2011

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