Our nation is a father
Who spends sons unwisely
Wasting their wonder
On warrior blunders
In nations swelling pride
We see our children
Committing suicide
Honor bound to pursue
Patriotic truths
If mothers ran the world
Would it all be better
Or would maternal malice
Malform modern intent
Blue eyes telling lies
Of war and all its’ glories
Grey hair sitting there
In old reclining lawn chairs
Celebrating fantastic stories
But I know the lives lost
Were not always spent wisely
Were not always sacrificed justly
Why does it feel like no one else sees
Have I become Don Quixote
Fatherland motherland
Better planned
Would be brotherhood
And sisterhood
All that love spent for the good
Like this poem
We have lost our way
Perhaps better stanza
Will return the wisdom
Of our better sages