Friday, September 13, 2013

Pawns

Death begets death
and bomb begets bomb,
with "peace" on your breath,
fingers crossed in your palm. 

Send out your airborne drones
and float democracy upriver.
Despite Countrymen's groans,
out the window, the last sliver

of your slogan: "hope and change." 
Those words your once touted.
It now feels so strange
that I barely doubted.

I lay my head down low
and find my heavy heart:
arteries to resew
after my flag ripped them apart.

How far we've gone
to wind up where we began.
In this game, we're your pawns,
but it's all in your plan.

From our city on the hill
to their desert village shacks,
you will conquer for the thrill
disregarding all the facts

and pawns be damned
whilst players play.
Blood on command:
someone must pay.


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"She is mean. She can kill. She would do it just to have a simple thrill." Bad Books Baby Shoes

"But it ain’t him to blame. He’s only a pawn in their game."  Bob Dylan Only a Pawn in Their Game

Thursday, September 05, 2013

Battle Cries


Even before the sun
devoured the whole sky,
the ending had begun
and we were left to die.
Over decades with a smoking gun,
the senators idly stood by,
and thinking that their jobs were done,
fell silent, no reply.

The marches of the uniformed men
and their wilted battle cries:
it all comes back around again
until humanity's demise.
The portly politicians' pens
wrote poetry to chastise.
They ended their prayers at night, "Amen,"
and dreamed about their lies.

Their banter and their bicker
and their precious, petty pork
made their wallets that much thicker,
so they popped another cork
and filled their bellies full of liquor:
a little democratic quirk.
It made a planet sicker,
left a people at the fork

of a bloody, barren road:
to rise up and revolt
and heed the warning crowed
or turn away and bolt
and watch the earth implode
as if no one's at fault.
A punishment for us bestowed:
a wake-up call, a crash, a jolt.

The warning fell upon deaf ears
so our blood rushed through the rivers.
It's everything the innocent feared
and we huddled close and quivered.
Then, closer in the sky appeared
our sun who would deliver
the final blow and with a sneer:
lights out for earth, our deathly shiver.

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"Some 5 billion years from now, there will be a last perfect day on Earth... then the sun will begin to die, life will be extinguished, the oceans will boil and evaporate away." - Carl Sagan Cosmos

"Come you masters of war - you that build all the guns, you that build the death planes, you that build all the bombs, you that hide behind walls, you that hide behind desks - I just want you to know I can see through your masks." - Bob Dylan Masters of War (really, this entire song)

"The drunken politician leaps upon the street where mothers weep and the saviors who are fast asleep: they wait for you." - Bob Dylan I Want You