Revolution In The Making


Picture Christmas Day, 1915
Somewhere in northern France
No church or chapel or stable
A churned up field defined by
Two untidy sets of enemy lines
Dirty smelly lads in uniform

Camaraderie amidst the carnage
“And no-one was keeping score”
Let’s have sympathy for those
Who felt themselves powerless
Abandoning football to go kill
Under orders*, poor buggers

Another embattled century gone
“Plus ça change”, cynics shrug
Yet who will change these things?
In the end only each person, alone
Each individual who decides
To find and follow their heart

Yes, who will dare to face
The dire consequences
Of following their truth?
Each of those persons
And you … and I too
At this very moment, now

And on into the future
For without this offerance
Gandhi, Martin Luther King
Nelson Mandela, Victor Jara
Have lived (and died) in vain
And today’s front line is ours



About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on December 13, 2013, in Prose With Pretensions and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. Quite a powerful verse.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Very powerful and heartfelt words. You are right very close to what I posted. Great minds dare I say.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. WordsFallFromMyEyes

    Like this very much. Really strong. Especially the ending – a wake up shake up, given how people get complacent that “someone else” will take up the cause.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Here’s a poem I wrote yesterday after a shopping trip. I haven’t posted it properly yet, but meantime:


      At the “super”market today
      I passed some people
      Trying to collect money to
      “Support Our Troops”

      For God’s sake

      Which part of
      “Though shalt not kill”
      Do they not understand?

      For pity’s sake

      “Father, forgive them
      For they know not what they do”


      • WordsFallFromMyEyes

        Wow, that’s heavy, but I do like it.

        Where does that money go, I can’t help wondering, that, what, $43.70 a tin can can hold? I don’t understand that.

        Good for you thinking above and beyond. Indeed, what part… ?

        Liked by 1 person

      • I didn’t ask where the money was going to go. To be honest, I’m not sure that I would have been able to have a calm conversation with them at that moment. I suppose the poem is a kind of substitute. 🙂

        “I can’t help wondering, that, what, $43.70 a tin can can hold?”

        I don’t understand this reference, I’m afraid.


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