Conscript’s
Plucked Against Their Will
Like teeth being
pulled, an awful experience, we would prefer to forget,
The dreaded
politsiya, seizing unwilling victims, in the Kremlin’s dragnet.
Unwitting pawns,
suddenly plucked, from their positions on the board,
Restrung to play
another game, marching in tune, to a different chord.
Hordes drawn from
Russian streets, well before they reach their prime,
Others taken from
the fields, stollen away to war, before harvest time.
Agents going door
to door, in search of dodgers, safely hidden inside,
Seeking fathers
and sons, at any hour of the day, caught blurry eyed!
Ill equipped men,
sent to do the devils work, in Putin’s wretched war,
Where young souls
are traded, for a few stingy rubbles, nothing more.
Lads spirited
away, to fill the vacant void, where the rotting corpses lie,
Into the
pulveriser, where the shameful river of blood, never runs dry.
Cannon fodder,
sent through the merciless mincer, ground for naught,
Left in Putin’s
dreaded playground, where premature death is wrought.
Abandoned to die
in agony, in the damp dugouts, unfaithfully forgotten,
Adding to the
sickly stench, of decaying conscripts, flesh going rotten.
We wonder, what
madness would take the comrades, against their will,
What right to
spend the lives, of so many fellow countrymen, what ill?
Leaders betraying
the people, waging a war, without the people’s voice,
Surely the poor
men, should be entitled, to exercise freedom of choice!
But no, the
brutal Russian regime is heartless, there’s no love lost there,
There are millions
more, comrades to waste, and Putin really doesn’t care.
Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET
(Jan 2023)
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