She sang softly as she swept
     Broken glass and dust
From her bomb-littered sill.

It was the song of her people
     Rising and enduring -
Singing of brotherhood and liberty.

Throngs huddled underground
     Sheltering from explosions above
Broke into the great Ukraini song of love.

The world knows this is your land,
     Your Motherland your Fatherland -
Your daughter land, your nephew land.

Sing on Ukraini, together forever!
     Sing songs of your parents, your children
Your doctors, teachers, bus drivers .
     Tailors, mechanics, dancers!
Sing on policemen, clerks, shopkeepers
     Factory workers, farmers and actors!

Sing the music of your
     Rivers, forests and rolling hills.
Your ancestors, and your grandchildren
     Sing full voice by your side.
The world sings with you –
    cheering you on to victory.
Soon the sounds of ringing bells
     Will echo from every street and valley
And freedom and glory will once again reign.

Slava Ukraini!
     Slava Ukraini!
          Slava Ukraini!

Robert Charles Howard

Those he met say his eyes
     Would freeze his victims’ tears
And the windows of his diseased soul
     Mirror only rabid ****** and chaos.

The currency of his homicidal
     Delusions of dominion?
War crimes that russian pens
     Helped etch into global law.

His dreams of a cleansed russia
      Need no lengthy search.
To find the filthiest part to scrub
      All he needs is a mirror.

Slaughter, lies and treachery
     Fill his curriculum vita
And his country’s patience
     Has outreached its vanishing point
Say a contemptuous goodbye
     To the butcher of Moscow.

Every day the prime of russian youth -  
     The doctors, engineers, teachers    
     chefs and artists of tomorrow,
Climb into armored steel coffins  
     enroute to a fiery reward
for their loyalty to their flag.

The Kremlin maniac sent them there –    
      Rolling to doom in tidy rows like
Aluminum birds in a carnival arcade.
      Fodder for Putin’s imperial cannon.

The men poised prostrate on the hills    
      Have no luxury of choice.
They know what tanks are for      
      And what their missiles must do.

And so the prime of russian youth
      Is blown to waste due to a heartless fool
Who spares even less care for his soldiers’ lives  
      Than the children he sent them to ******.

The bravest Moscow souls take the streets
     to show their belief in life over death -
In truth over lies and repression -
    Courage over spineless complicity.

The weak and cowardly
    Put on uniforms and shields
And herd their neighbors
    Into buses and cells -
Neighbors who have decided
    It is better to serve the beating
Heart of mother russia
    In a cold and heartless cell
Than live at ease in a prison of silence.

All you uniformed traitors of justice,
     Listen to the screams in the night
     That crawl in to haunt your dreams.
They are your Ukrainian brethren
     Crying out to your lost better selves.

Muster the courage to shed and defy
     Your blood-soiled uniforms and shields
     Smash your guns and clubs to pieces
Your souls are your own to redeem.

Robert C. Howard

Somewhere or rather everywhere
     Out there in the cosmos,
The God of justice and harmony weeps
     for his fratricidal children
Playing another round of **** or be killed.

This time, delusional russian lunatics
    With mass homicide in their DNA
    Have decided to slaughter
Their brothers and sisters to the west.

People of russia, throw off theses assassins,
    Bring your soldiers home
    Along with their killing machines
And leave the Ukrainians alone.

sergei lavrov with face carved of limestone
knows no joy save in the mangled bodies of children
or a maternity hospital destroyed.

The russian ship of state has rammed its iceberg –
Known to the world as the Ukrainian heart.
lavrov can lie and lie and lie some more
telling the passengers it’s only a water feature
But like the Titanic, his ship is going down.

Don’t turn your back on a door, sergei,
They’re coming for you.
That limestone face of yours will erode
As cold rivers of truth
grind your lying stone into sand.

So minister lavrov, apostle of mass ******,
You are defendant No. 2 in the coming trial
The gavel will slam against the wood
And you will meet your justice.
Never turn your back on a door.

There was a knock on the door.
    A trio of uniformed men took off hats
And respectfully asked to come in.

The woman raised her hands to her face
    As her children appeared at her side.
Her tears knew exactly why they had come.

“It is our sad duty to report your husband
    Was killed by disobediant resisters
During our peace keeping efforts in Ukraine.

We can tell you that his service was not in vain.
     Before he died he was able to blow up
A maternity hospital and several trucks of
     Food and medical supplies
As well as dozens of other civilians.

We bring you this flag in his honor
     With apologies for the blood stains.
We can tell you for certain that none
     Of that blood belonged to your husband.”

The widow felt a tug at her skirt.
    “Mommy, where is daddy?”