They stay vigil, ever waiting the new design of sigils. Kinda simple, keep their fingers pressed to pimples, The pus a pit of petered parts, Perceived by the reckoning of depleted hearts. I rushed the doors at the sound of a great escape, The process a repeat coordination of hurry up and wait. Ever balking at the atrocities of cost, Average Joes chasing dreams at the velocity of sloths. How to be content with immense disparity? Hands out faking quivers, shaking for some charity. Forsaken someones somewhere surviving on a sliver, Watching all the getters, I see myself a giver.
when no mornings follow nights cities lie without their lights little beasts root happily children can live all their fears forests break mountains shake then it’s time again
rockets roar with deadly freight sharp explosions rock the night soldiers shoot graveyards bloom it is war
when scrawny skeletons creep through the streets parents weep dead bodies radiate new death and crumpled shapes spread more disease then it’s time again
the general orders strategic attacks and watches how the metropolis cracks rivers stink battleships sink it is war
when the bakers bake no more bread when the butchers chop off their hands when the doctors’ only prescription is death corpses float in the village pond and supermarkets stay closed 24 hours a day then it’s time again
maybe the ultimate time for the warriors to storm from their heights to the valleys to lance and destroy they also **** women all children are dead the moon is all red the stars are so wan
we are counting the corpses as long as we can
it is war
Written in January 2003, three months before the outbreak of the Iraq War. Somehow, I have a similarly uneasy feeling now, with the new POTUS and all the melodramatic warrior rhetoric, and just hope history will not repeat itself. Historians say it does not, but who knows.... - What happenedin 2003 is the reason we have IS all over the world today!
Congrats you did it again You threw your own pity party and took it all away I'm just 'so sorry' for your loss These atrocities you've committed With your bare hands It's hard for you apparently So all you can do is cry in pain A broken animal without a purpose The wingless bird we all pity What a shame It's happening again More people will fall for that trap I can't wait to see it fail
Only God knows all our wrongs But though arrows point at our souls The whispers of the lamb dull his vengeance A man has to die before he lives forever While parades remind us of his courage Some stand still thinking only of progress Train tracks laid across holy ground Desperate men laid to rest They ask if evil killed each other Or did we also sacrifice the saints? They made peace with their destiny A story they never thought to question Right can never observe wrong blithely And those whose spirits keep watch Silently shed their hopes for the truth Because history is still written by man
Yesterday is much clearer As the future is drawing nearer. The histories we have rehearsed Over time have become reversed. It should make us very sad; What was good has become bad.
The bad guys were the Indians And the good guys Caucasians And they were always right Because they were always white. The Red Man was a villain Because he was an Indian; And that was never corrected. The name an invader selected.
These were people born here Defending land they held dear Because they had hunted And were never really wanted. The invaders called them savage Their women okay to ravage Because they didn’t have Jehovah To issue them a binding mitzvah.
There were so few invaders So at first they were persuaders. But after putting out some feelers They chose to become stealers. They declared the natives sinners And thus became the winners. The natives hadn’t learned to read So the invaders ignored all their needs.
The invaders were prepared to fight To deny the natives their rights So, the invaders created paper laws Thus natives couldn’t tell what they saw. Suddenly the noble savage was a crook. The invaders gloated over what they took; Stole native’s possessions from their hands And declared it all as the invader’s land.
This is the Danes and Angles back when And the story happened all over again. But once the battle victory is scored The native’s birthright is not restored. The invaders cover up the tragedies With inaccurate tales and call them history.