the Battle of Borodino by Bob Atkinson

the Battle of Borodino

(c)2012 Bob Atkinson

fever drove the want of battle

to provoke the emperor again

this time driving into mother Russia

intent upon conquering them

then causing him to stretch his lines

more so than prudent or wise

driving army forces controlled

deep into plains for endless miles

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
while picking at a meal

attacks toward those supply strings

drew armies ever smaller

sapping growth of forces

endangering assaulting soldiers

sickness and diseases

thinned lines of the proudest soldiers

that followed his directions exactly

within shadows of mindless orders

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
his heart filled with thrills

defeat, not an option

he believed in his self worth

ideals of the purest nature

set his followers to conquer worlds

Spain, as had been seen

saw his army's strengths

fighting those who saw his shadow

as something of a giant's hand

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
for his fame and his ideals

now in this larger land

where rules were made without

the same forces of good and evil

that caused such strange results

they viewed his hand as not benign

but threatening to engulf

centuries of established order

set up by older sons and daughters

thoughts of these imperial leaders

within the borders of the north

were those of the mother

protecting what has been born

from attacks of wild animals

those who hungered for

the meat within the population

gold, silver and political scores

all threatened by the conquest

of many villages and towns

who spoke the Russian tongue

and left their leaders astounded

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
onward marching still

the endless plains and open range

that Napoleon couldn't leave alone

gave to him supply lines

both stretched so thin and broken

was his head that exploded in

a firestorm of demolition

expanding workings of the legion

which had many victories commanded

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
prestige his only thrill

gambles made to engulf

all cultures which competed

with the force of mighty right

which he embraced and ever pleaded

heartless in his approach to doctrine

making fear his motto for life

selling cheaply the lives of men

who followed him with such driven pride

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
on the battle fields 

against all enemies of the righteous

which they imagined as imperfect lives

felt fate had given them

the simple right to genocide

ideals, moral strength of thought

and usefulness of purpose

were sound reasons for violence

upon those foreign persons

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
without much shame or guilt

theirs was the cause to propel

man to a higher plane

of liberty and justice

within the French domain

that man had engaged before

no feelings of remorse

in carrying out this war of ideals

upon those foreign shores

leaves one now not in control

of why this siege began

how could a half million men

allow themselves to be damned

causing so much life to shed

from the earth's round skin

dying deaths of violence

for the madness of one man

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
his pockets yet to fill

with gold of the conquest
with riches of lands good wealth
with titles to be bestowed
upon those favored men

sickness, starvation and pestilence

became so commonplace

that ranks of fine soldiers

began to dissipate

marching in formation

dressed as gentlemen

flying flags of false hope

of Russian victories again

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
while he counts new claims within

the boundries of his new lands
to be won with blood of those
who'd fight for his name and pride
false liberty exposed

with scarfs, hats and belts of leather

banners flying for the pride

of men in ranks who lifted eyes

to the victory of their own side

powder brought for their guns

screaming shots into the ranks

of those who stood to oppose

the advance of so many pompous gents

imposing upon those who made

a living tilling land for crops

the will of a foreign leader

whom their lives he thought not of

the star of world salvation
sits blindly on the hill
watching men die horrible deaths
insensitive, no inner feelings

he commanded respect of his men

fighting for his own side

because of pride and sacrament

for which they'd give their lives

by control of their thoughts

within the martial ways

as drums and fifes and marching songs

carried them to their early graves

now he sits there sulking

one leg upon a drum

asking silly questions

such as this one: 
“why?”

why does my army not advance?

why do we seem to be

losing strength to opposition

with every cannon's scream?

why do we not kill them all?

why do we not prevail?

ours is the cause that is supreme

life's nose, not its tail...

my army has met its match?

of this I cannot believe

no form now in our lines

are we really in retreat?

no, now we seem to hold steady

have them on the run

but with my glass I can count

one dead for each two advancing

some say it was victory
some say it was the end
of this brash and useless move
to conquer fellow men