Young men in France would clamber to that call,
To drink their fill of bottles filled with wine;
They lined them up and shot them on the wall.

Sat huddled in small cafes in the fall,
When news of war came creeping down the vine,
Young men in France would clamber to that call.

Their basic training taught them how to sprawl,
As target dummies waited in a line;
They lined them up and shot them on the wall.

They marched to battle, lean and fit and tall,
And when the whistles blew to give the sign,
Young men in France would clamber to that call.

In no-mans-land, their charge became a crawl,
And in the mud they cursed the German swine;
They lined them up and shot them on the wall.

The Germans countered, swiftly taking all
The captured and the wounded to a mine;
Young men in France would clamber to that call:
They lined them up and shot them on the wall.

How you flew, newly feathered
a fledgling falling from the sky
but upwinds sailed you far and high
carried you, strong through clouds
winged and wild your arms
fingers running through
the updrafts of cold,
cooling, then
warm.

I been there, I truly understand your pain and suffering.
I use to believe why bother me no one understands my situation.
I use to think that no one else could understand my sufferings.
But there is at least one that understands our sufferings and pain.
He went through his own suffering and pain as well on the cross.
There is nothing that you could be going through right now.
That e does not understand, he knows what you are feeling now.
For only he can understand and heal you of your suffetings and pain.
He loves you enough to have went through what you are going through now.

A story I read yesterday
about a father and son playing chess.
They were sitting over the board for hours now
arguing who is the king.
Which of those pieces wooden on that surface flat,
should be the one to be king.
The son was thinking and thinking, but he could not tell.
Troubled after a while he thought,
why his father asked him that.
"Who is the king? Who has always been king?"
Countless times before they played,
the question always remained the same.
The father, his son, he persistently asked -
who is the king?
The son like his father,
he wasn't an easy mind.
He wouldn't give up to a question so simple;
He was determined to prove his father wrong.
So many riddles by his father he cracked easy,
but this one, just wouldn't come to mind.
Protect it! Protect the king!
- said the father, with warm smile upon his son.
And the son deep in thought with fingers crossed
was just looking over the board;
..even more and more confused..
Moments ago I watched something.
It was a memo for a dead man.
On a beach that man was the father.
He played with his child around.
They were swirling in circles in the salty air,
before he rode into his last sunset.
Then the question hit me again - who is the king?
The screen went dark and the lights flickered to light.
Elevating murmur filled with clap, filled the room.
I turned back and I saw..
That father, that child, over and over again.
..everywhere, the whole room..
One jumping around, one sitting calm,
one excited, can't wait for fun,
the other just looking for his last piece of popcorn.
I watched upon those daughters and sons,
and then I realised who is the king.

What does it say about humankind that it defines happiness in a rectangular paper with a number and this symbol on it: $ ?
And there is no escape for those who don't define as such. If your definition is anything but $, €, £, ¥, and so on, you, apparently, are not allowed to eat, drink, have a shelter
reproduce
wear clothes
Have a voice...

Ranting raving
Lunatic
The way you hold
Yourself is
Sick
No respect
Lack of love
Bowing down
When push
Comes to
Shove
I cant be your
Boat
When your
Anchor
Sinks
I cant
Sugarcoat
What
I
Think
Youre bitter
Malicious
Angry
Sore
This way
Of thinking
Is
A bore