Tin Soldiers

I strived the ground on this dear mound
With sword held high, I thundered down
My armoured chest had took the pound
Of a cannon ball so large and round
That spun my sword all proud and torn
Blandly formed from iron ore
Into the earth that we were born
A silence passed just for a while
As a stone was laid to mark my grave
To remember me in time of strength
Now as I lay unto my bed.
Forgotten dreams of Kings and Queens
The layman's fork all pitched with scorn
To prep the fields for those who steal
Lay waste and barren for a Baron
Sweet grass and tulips pleased my gaze
Then the field was full of corn and maize
As I watched the seasons slowly change
Harsh winds blew the lucid soils
That man had cut with sword and scythe
Having never looked beyond the sky
But knelt the earth in all it's dirt
Where he was born from birth to girth
To pass asunder from his grave
To view the earth that God had made
He takes it back from breaking backs
Through death and toil and folly man's foil
I watched a while as years passed by
As people passed and slowly died
Then silence fell on this ill mound
No sun or moon or harvest groom
To till the clutching hands on straw
No God nor dog or maidens frock
Came forth to lend a helping hand.
For man had tired like his God
Just like my rusted scabbard sword
Lay dead and waste beneath my gaze
As I truly felt towards my waste.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep
To void the tears I could not weep
As children cried and mothers sighed
From poisoned breasts with cancered crests
Lay squalled and buried by those who cherished
No grave or mass or patron's cast, religious gash.......
and surplus cash could save the torn and festered trash
That man had grazed with a shaven haste
Prophetically blazed by Edgar Cay'ce
Atoned by fortune, atomic fusion
With hand held high into the sky
He beckons me, and asks me why ?

By George