What year is it in Mississippi?
Sometimes it’s hard to tell,
You’d think in the 21st century,
We’d be able to tell time well.

Talking slow and taking it slow is okay
At least for most of the time
But there’s a big difference in drawling what you say,
And never reaching your prime

What year is it in Mississippi?
I don’t think it has its own zone.
Surely it’s impossible for the entire state
To have their watches on loan.

What year is it in Mississippi?
They seem so hopelessly behind,
Most other states quickly recognize
That her flag is hatred-lined.

What year is it in Mississippi?
Sorry, but I have to ask,
First in everything bad, and last in anything good,
To even tie with another state seems an impossible task.

Because when you act like you’re still in the past,
You’re going to keep being last.
And passed.
And bashed.
And masked.
And trashed.

No one thinks it’s hopeless yet
Or that the whole state is obscene,
I just hate to break it to Mississippi
That it is 2015.

We can wait ten years to change the flag,
Or another whole generation.
We can turn this thing into just a snag
or rebuild from the foundation.

We can change the confederate flag tomorrow
Or just wait around til we’re last,
We can bring the next fifty years some sorrow
Or mark it as a thing of the past.

We can get made fun of by every other state
First place in everything bad,
Or we can start to fix our problems with hate,
And make being actually first the new fad.

We can cling to a symbol of hate and loss,
And pretend it’s simply tradition,
Or we can dispose of that top-left cross
And avoid all of the opposition

Because Mississippi,

We can wait a week, a month or a year,
It really is a choice.
But the flag is going to change, it’s clear,
With or without your voice.

It was torn and slightly tattered
storms and wind had battered
The symbol....
The tree was strong and silent
As the winds tore through real violent
At the symbol.....

Look around you'll see it
There are many there to see
A simple yellow ribbon
Tied tight right around a tree
They're there for every soldier
Who is fighting to be free
They are waiting for their safe return
They are there for you and me

That yellow ribbon hangs on tough
To the tree bark that is worn and rough
A symbol...
On the day that they come home
Show them they were not alone
Show the symbol...

It's a simple ribbon on a tree
That shows them that we care
A yellow ribbon, nothing more
We're proud that they are there
When our soldiers come on home
I think that it would just be fair
To let them cut it down
And give them a ribbon they can wear
....a symbol

(Don't) go to war, my mother begged with wet eyes.
Your (family) country needs you. It will be your destiny (Demise.)

                  I took up my pack, shined my boots, shaved my head.
                                         Two years down the line,
I'll be home
                                                           ­                               I'll be dead.
                              We went into the killing ground,
Got the go ahead.
                                                         ­                        Bunkered down.
Fired away.
                                                          ­                       Hit the ground.
Served the flag.
                                                          ­                       Burned it down.
                    And in the middle of the field, there stood a soldier
                         And my (his) mortar took him  (me) in the shoulder,
and I whispered
                                                       ­                          And I whispered,

See, Mom?
                                                           ­                        I'm sorry, Mom...
I was right.
                                                         ­                          You were right.

                            And in the end, no matter who was right,

I came home.                                                           ­       I Died alone.

                            *There's a dead soldier in the ground,
                                            a grieving mother,
                                              a widowed wife.

An Aussie digger
killed in battle
but disinclined to die
returns to the front line
as a spectre
wearing a slouch hat
and a larrikin grin.

Draped in a tattered flag
he yells
'Remember Korea, lads
and Vietnam
and how we went
all the way
with Menzies and L.B.J.'

'Don't forget Gallipoli
men
or the fight for peace
with George
in Iraq and Afghanistan
against Al Qaeda
and the Taliban.

'Defeat the enemy
mates
to secure the future
as our heritage
of service
patriotism and pride
in U. S foreign policies.'

I am peace and purity.

I am the sky,
I am the sun,
I am the moon,
I am the earth.

King Gojong proclaimed my birthday to be March 6, 1883.

I am spring,
I am summer,
I am autumn,
I am the winter.

I died in the year 1910
The winter of Japan.

I was born again on October 15, 1949.

I am the father,
I am the daughter,
I am the son,
I am a lonely mother.

I was torn in half in the year 1950.
So much pain so many tears I have seen.

I am some bad.
I am some good.

I've seen so many miracles and other amazing things.

It's all about balance!

I am beautiful, and I am loved.

Do you know my name?

© 2013 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.