The Dead Don’t Count

The piled up sandstone names
Carved there, glaring
Aghast at how their sacrifice
Is wasted, profligately.

Their sandstone voices shunned
Their calls unheard
Barking condemnation
At the shallow makers
Of national policy
Who, unmindful of them
Steer our country towards
Rocks of madness.

And yet with honeyed words
And sleeky mouthings
Our politicians
Duck, bow and bob
Their creaking, glassy shoes
Immaculate
Twinned with gloating suits
Parading opulence.

Polished faces feign reverence
Of our youthful dead
For sly policy, lies and betrayal
Nullify past sacrifice and love.