Anti War Poetry
- A Statistic of One (on separate page)
- i sing of Olaf glad and big - e. e. cummings
- Song of the Three Soldiers - Bertolt Brecht (translated by Eric Bentley)
i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or
his wellbeloved colonel(trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but--though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first knocking on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments--
Olaf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds,without getting annoyed
"I will not kiss your fucking flag"
straightway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)
but--though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skilfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat--
Olaf(upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
"there is some shit I will not eat"
our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died
Christ(of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf,too
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you.
-- e. e. cummings
SONG OF THE THREE SOLDIERS
By Bertolt Brecht (translated by Eric Bentley)
George was around, and John was too,
And Fred became a sergeant in short order.
And the army, to show what it could do,
Marched northward to the border.
And Freddy found the whisky warm
And George at night would shake and shiver
But John said as he took George by the arm:
Remember that the army lives forever!
Now George has fallen and Fred is dead
And John got lost in the shooting.
Blood, however, is still blood-red
And the army is again recruiting.
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