Big Break
He sipped in cafés in the afternoons;
He’d been below the average at school.
Tradition made him thrash away at life,
Despite this, he was no more than a fool.
Then suddenly he had his first big break;
A full-blown, bloody war had to be fought.
His doomed adventures did not matter now;
All trails of damage added up to nought.
A strange equality in times of war
Means anyone can scheme or kill or die;
No bomb or bullet will discriminate.
In all the mess, some low achievers ply
Their gormless trade and wave a magic wand,
While those more worthy end up in a pile
Of bones and flesh immobilised in time.
The opportunists grab it by a mile.
And so our café friend would seize his chance
And wielded his connections and his charm.
He slipped beneath the radar’s vacant space
And waited for the suckers to disarm.
Stephen Gospage
Wed 10th Jan 2024 21:18
No need to apologise, Carlton. Your responses have been fascinating and have added to the poem. Thank you.