WOMEN ON THE WIRE by George Mansford

 Pages of history gathering dust in dark shadows lie

How quickly true tales of war fade and die

Were such records in the Temple ever read?

Of defending social values at the cost of glorious dead

Now our women too must face Mar’s ultimate test

Be quiet! Don’t argue! Our arrogant Canberra Suits know best

They’re tempting Eros to fight in the forward trenches

Mid misery, blood, gore and death with all its stenches

Clearly Canberra Gods of War are seeking political fame

Indifferent to consequences of what they see as a game

How confused our nation has become

in our short history in the sun

Torn from balanced views and reason

Tossed into the madness of killing seasons

Life’s values slowly lost to social engineers and the rest

See not the beauty of maidens at nature’s best

Converted now to screaming amazons trained to kill

Complete with modern automatic weapon to fire at will

Gone the scent, lipstick and charm

Now the rouge is camouflage cream and eager to harm

No more the allure and suggestive dress

But rifle and bayonet transforming life into a bloody mess

Sterilised is the maternal instincts for caring

Replaced by a culture in missions of death and daring

Grunting, cursing, slashing, killing but no time for crying

In a bloody close quarter arena littered with dead and dying

Blind Canberra Suits in haste to keep power do not care

For Gladiators or history lessons scattered here and there

George Mansford © October 2011

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