Tag Archives: war

THE FIGHT WITHIN

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The Cold War taught school kids to “duck-and-cover”

to save their lives, not from bullets fired by fellow Americans;

But from Russian bombs put in place

to put America in its place

in every available space

where bombs could reach our shores.

President Kennedy intervened to stop the ships

carrying missiles to fill silos built in Cuba.

School kids stopped to pray that day

before being sent home to “be with their families.”

I recall that day when annihilation of my nation

became too real to hide away.

Khruschev shouted “We will bury you” as he beat his shoe

where he sat at a desk in the UN.

He foretold our future there and then.

He said we will “destroy you from within.”

That is when the great pirates began to grow rich

in their race shore to shore running

arms, and drugs, and sex slaves galore;

depositing money passed hand-to-hand

into banks off-shore until it washed up and over 

the World Bank, its monolith waves too big to ignore.

The dish on American tables ran away with the spoon

feeding the greed of a growing American oligarchy.

It has taken my lifetime to measure

the true loss of America’s treasure

amassed in stealth by pirates dressed as lobbyists,

and PACS funded by dark money

who claim the false goal to live free in our fragile democracy, 

our greatest wealth.

The pirates stole into control of our country 

with entertainment instead of news.

Encouraging citizens to sleep and not be woke to the tragedy

of pirates placed within a government grown too thin

by tax cuts for the pirates like Trump, Vance, Bannon, Musk, Ramaswamy,

Hegseth, Gabbard, Alito and so many others.

Leaders now promise to deregulate all guards against their pirate theft.

And a sleeping nation nods “yes,” ignoring the pleas of true patriots, left bereft.

The pirates have  opened the gates and our Ship of State is un-moored.

They smile and smirk with strong-men and must not be ignored.

We cannot simply give up and give in

watching our country destroyed from within,

while Putin and America’s pirates count coins and grin.

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THE WAY TO PEACE

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Even if I could

give you peace

I am not certain I would.

Struggle breaks apart

and shreds the comfortable ways

we hold in our hearts.

Discomfort makes us let go

of ideas held taut by thick skins.

It make us eager to run to and fro

to shake off the pain and instead

become free to fly beyond

the old ideas lodged in our heads.

I would not have you wait for permission

to embrace the battle inside.

I would have you take over the mission

to set fear and pride aside.

True peace only arrives

when our hearts are torn asunder,

and we discover

what makes us truly alive.

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GAZA

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Shooting fish in a barrel

is not a noble act

No courage required.

No reasoned plan needed.

No applause sincerely given

to endorse fisherman’s creed

to take only what you need.

Fish have no ideology

written on their fins.

The fisherman cannot identify

which fish carries the tale

of Hamas attacks and hate.

Yet, all fish must share their fate?

Revenge, I understand,

in heated moments lost in pain.

But cold calculation

with no disassociation

between guilt and innocence

simply makes no sense.

But, when did war ever

protect the innocent ?

When did war ever set free

those who had no part

in hateful perfidy ?

Shooting fish is never pretty.

But, this ? This ?

Shooting fish in a barrel

with no chance of escape

can never be explained.

Find a way to peace

or take the gun away.

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Think

“Anyone who has the power to make you believe absurdities has the power to make you commit injustices.” – Voltaire

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Campaign Music

No single note is discordant.

No single vote voiced is wrong.

How the songwriter

puts the notes together

determines the song.

Our brains fine-tune our ears

to listen for the meaning

of words carried on the notes.

Some songs lift our spirits

to reach a higher cause.

Some songs depress our spirits

and make our hearts pause

with the fear of the other

we hated all along.

Some songs get us on our feet

to dance together, smile and sing.

Some songs hold us in our seats

ready to shout out in defeat.

The songs which truly make us strong

Are those we can rely upon

to offer hope, and love, and peace.

How the notes are brought together means everything.

The music that is America

is hard to sing if notes

are not treasured,

So many notes over so many years

from so many places refugees fled in fear

of famine, crime and even war.

We have sung the song of safety and of freedom,

welcoming all to our shore.

Songs that open minds and hearts

are the best place to start

a journey to a better future;

unlike the songs meant to keep us apart.

So many discordant notes

strung together create chaos,

not a strong and lovely song.

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PAIN

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Pain changes all.

It puckers lips which can no longer speak.

It furrows brows and narrows the view.

It buckles the knees, threatens our fall.

There is so much pain everywhere,

enough to spare, too much to bear.

Pain always wants out,

it erupts in a shout,

“Make it stop!”

“Stop!”

“Just stop!”

Does anyone hear?

Too many continue

to pour salt in the wound.

Too few seem to care.

Too many press fingers on spots

that pulse too hot

until pain explodes and we drop

to our knees as we plead,

“Make it stop!”

“Stop!”

“Just stop!”

Human angels run by

and try not to cry

as they sound the alarm

and beg to succeed

in stopping the harm.

U.N. food trucks are bombed.

Opposition leaders are killed.

Weather tells stories

to gain our attention.

The earth pleads as do we,

“Make it stop!”

“Stop!”

“Just stop!”

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NO WORDS

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My words are in hiding.

They went south

on orders by an enemy

in a language unknown

on internet connections silenced

on phones which could not be charged

written on leaflets

dropped from the sky

with the dumb bombs

which destroyed the words

where I reside

in hopeless desires

for peace, at first;

now, simply, not to die.

My words and I moved south

to promised safety.

My words and I could not speak

of what we saw 

along the way

south,

leaning on false promises.

Still, my words must hide

in shelters bombed 

despite the promise

despite the effort

carrying my words

which are my children,

silent, on my back.

Trapped, my words and I

with nowhere to go.

Without hope.

No one speaks words;

Only the bombs may speak,

with a language of their own.

A language no one understands.

One no one ever wants to hear. 

My words hide here.

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BUILDING BLOCKS

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Whose power fills the vein,

courses through the body politic,

amidst the loosening strain

by seeking peace and unity

to replace the the fearful rage

wrought by endless war ?

Culture is not the same

as power playing games

to win at any cost

what some fear they have lost.

What they have lost they took in theft.

No need to now feel bereft

of what one never owned.

Thieves have no honor it is clear.

Nor hesitation to build fear

by bullying, intimidation and threats.

Lies cannot heal the wounds,

nor close veins opened in regret

of what we failed to acknowledge

in a past we chose to skew.

Structures fall in blocks of despair

as we stand in quaking dread

of what might lie ahead.

Disaster and opportunity are well met

in the rubble which now settles about

our feet, and all we doubt.

Thoughts and feelings drift down

in the dust settling all around

thoughts tossed and set askew.

We are left choking on what we cannot see.

A pause is not amiss.

But, we cannot afford to wait

to rebuild a globe and create anew our fate,

and heal the hurts from falling debris

from hidden, hate-filled, fearful history

disclosed as walls and nations tumble.

Gather those who grieve the loss of democracy.

Clear the rubble, dust and minds

with a truer view of history

Dedicate such memory to better buildings.

This is humanity’s strength.

Not the structures of banks and governments;

but the blood flowing in the veins

in powerful resiliency to those who would suppress

truth and honesty.

The muscle and sinew of strong minds and hearts

whose only thought as worlds break apart

is how to build anew

a better, fairer, stronger structure

to protect both me and you.

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REMEMBER THAT THOU ART DUST

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Revenge is a dish

best served cold.

forgiveness is a feast

meant to feed us all.

When fear replaces hope,

and impulse thoughtfulness,

death becomes 

the boon companion

of he who wields the sword

to decapitate infants,

shoots the gun

to annihilate a people,

or sets the fire

to decimate a place.

There is no saving grace.

There is no promise of immortality

to be fulfilled in hateful commonplace. 

There is only disgrace.

Personal value, human value,

no longer take the stage,

nor takes a bow, by those enraged.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Forgiveness is a feast for all.

Where it can be found,

nor how,

I no longer know.

But search I must,

before we all turn to dust.

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CHARITY

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If I come to you in need

would you care for me?

Would you open your door?

Would you allow me in?

Would you lecture me on choices made?

Would you tell me I must not sin?

Would you point out the truth of my failures within?

Would you judge me or love me?

Is that even a choice?

Would you teach me or listen

to my oft’ silenced voice?

Human we both be;

Ill-mannered or worse occasionally.

At fault more often than we care to admit.

Would you invite me in and tell me just sit?

Would you open your door?

would you let me in?

Would fear turn your lock

and your heart harden to rock?

If I come to you in need

would you care for me?

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