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Compromise


It's a strange Guard of Honour
barely repressing my hate;
last year he was a terrorist
shooting at me and my mates.

Now he's a respected leader
returning his folks to the middle ages,
yet he's poncing around here  
and on other world stages.
And the politicians welcome him
with their oily type of charm;
they've managed to get a peace
which does them no harm.
At the Present with fixed bayonet,
just before me his grin
almost a perfect the chance
to drive my blade right in.

Discipline prevails,
but I won't meet his eye
and seconds later
he's gone poncing on by,
and I'll soon be in my civvies
trying not to be too late
hospital visiting
some wounded mates.
Every single one of them
down to the last man
blown up by the I.E.D's
of this very recent statesman.

It's a strange Guard of Honour
barely repressing my hate;
last year he was a terrorist
shooting at me and my mates.








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