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Hannah Yardley Sep 2014
He was only 16,
                                                          ­      He wanted to join,
he was too young to die,
                                                         ­       he was old enough to fight,
the loss for his family,
                                                      ­          for the good of his country,
he had so much to live for,
                                                         ­       he had so much to die for,
that poor boy,*
                                                         ­       that good boy.
I was going to enter a poetry competition in my college but I backed out. It had to be about war or conflict and this was what i came up with.
Evan Ponter Sep 2014
Their lies are prompted
from teleprompters
and executed flaw-fully
from taxpayer's helicopters.

They say we're protecting
foreign daughters
while filtering profits
to desert clad marauders.

Blank faced public
fear conversing religion and politics
while passively electing
lunatics with trigger switches.

Arm the rebels
they bite the hand that feeds
the middle east burns
while America ******* bleeds.

The white, blue and red
camo helmets on their heads
farm fed frat boys
equipped with jackets of lead.

We watched Saddam crumble
his statue beaten with shoes
but the same war we already fought
the puppets now will choose.

Fight the good fight
support the troops.

Drone strikes by twilight
**** the troops.

An Army of one
Sempter Fi
Do or Die
I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket
covered in a flag you valued more than your life.

Our heroes are our welfare
stop blaming single mothers
plastic bags tied around throats
water boarding dissent, it smothers.

**** the Medal of Honor
I'm tearing up your portrait Obama.
How many can benefit from free tuition?
But we give it to those trained to slaughter.

Our priority is the police state
Nazis pretending to tote freedom.
We sip our Americanos
And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading.

**By Evan Ponter
@evanponter
Today, the US government voted on arming rebels in Syria to fight the threat of ISIS. We made this mistake before. The Taliban was originally an American puppet that we used as a tool to fight in Afghanistan. Now we're going down the same dangerous route. The war on terror is never ending. **** the troops and stand up against the fascist foreign policy of this country.
KarmaPolice Aug 2014
Winters Soldier

A winters night, into the cold,
The Queen's servant, looking old,
Just ten years since Iraq..
Ripped cloth upon his back.

Paper sheets, and plastic bags,
Warming body holding rags ,
His bottle lacking wine..
Drinking passed the time,

Daily grind, passing by,
No one stops, wonders why..
..His lips, are a shade of blue,

Tight fist clutched to chest,
A hero soldier, came to rest,
Upon commuter street..
..look down beneath your feet...

..Yes you!

A winters soldier, died alone,
Buried deep, below the stone,
Tortured by the war..
By the scars nobody saw.

If only you had not ignored,
The dying soldier there before,
Then maybe we can save...
..The wounded and the brave.
Irate Watcher Aug 2014
1991

I realized
We were both born
in rotting soil,
plastic toys fed
by Arabia's oil.
Eyes closed,
ears behest
to broadcasts, we,
could NOT protest.

That was the beginning
of our mass destruction,
but cribs offsides,
we slept soundly,
thanking our stars,
proud to be Americans.

10 years dormant,
the lyrics laid,
enough to stick,
but their irony to fade.
Until grade school,
recess goaded,
as burning buildings
on our side exploded.
The imminent threat preloaded,
in airports we shed shoes,
forever coded.

The broadcast — our center
was the theorem
that planes, oil, and Arabs
risked everyone's freedom.
But when we raised hands,
to ask why, teachers said
hail red, blue,
and especially white.
We forgot our roots,
because the Ellis Island trip
was obviously cancelled.

So we read headlines,
instead of Orwell,
the day 911
called for a police state.
Trusted the government
and ****** Muslims,
the day turbans
meant hijacking planes.
Pledged allegiance
disguised as freedom,
the day war
was declared
on Saddam Insane.

Our flag revealed
a sham feeding flames,
angst-ridden
teenagers
we became.
With raised middle fingers,
instead of hands,
to Green Day lyrics,
**** Amuricans.

Because only idiots
press a red button twice,
when mass destruction is the price.
And only villains
make children orphans,
while victims drown
in New Orleans.
And only gluttons
eat caviar with silver spoons,
tainting forever
a nation's youth.

Entrenched in dunes,
we boarded blind,
to debt,
death, and
jaded minds.
Blamed by perpetrators
in dollars and change,
for a guerrilla war
fought in vain!
Voted Obama,
with Osama slain,
and soldiers withdrawn,
we hoped for change.
PLEASE, we cried,
JUST STOP!
We are CHAINED —
to a bulldozer
that has NO BRAKES!



So the broadcast said recently:
We are losing control
of the Middle East. And
Al-Qaeda is far from weak —
ISIS: THE PHOENIX OF HUMAN GREED,
We just turned off our TV's
and looked up,
the kids who gave up,
thanked Musk — our atlas,
not yet shrugged,
whose vessels of stars
will rocket toward Mars,
from this godforsaken
civilization
built on hate.

And when you tell me, ***,
"We were both born in 1991,"
I can only sigh,
and breath sympathy,
for our dark history.
Thank you Justin for inspiring this poem. I am performing it next Tuesday at Da Poetry Lounge in LA so any feedback is appreciated :)
it was the last day of winter
unseasonably warm

I was standing behind an Imam
his arms were raised
hurling prayers for peace
into the face of intransigence

black dressed armored
SWAT teams amassed
swinging readied M16s
vigilantly guarding walls
constricting penned citizens

waiting to place an
American flag
draped coffin
onto the growing pile
of other coffins
covered in the
multicolored flags of
Iraq War belligerents
swelling at the base
of the wrought iron fence
surrounding the White House

I saw a curtain in the
White House part
the window filled
with two tiny faces

I imagined it to be
Sasha and Bo
taking a break from
rambunctious play
to peer out on
a grim assembly

wondering
in confusion
whats going on?
why are these people
placing coffins
in front of our house?

Sasha and Bo
ran upstairs
to the
Oval Office

she burst through
the door

“Daddy people are
piling coffins
in front of our house

Why?”

The President
hugged his daughter
and answered…

“we’re at war
Sasha...

“the Evil Doers
hate us for
who we are...

“they want to
hurt us...

“we must ****
them…

Sasha asked…

“one sign says
our bombs
**** children…

is that true
Daddy?”
Thats a lie
right Daddy?

If you knew
children like
me were being
killed you wouldn't
let that continue…
would you Daddy?”

John Kerry
popped his head
into the office….

“Sasha,
your Daddy
would never
**** children
in service to a lie”

Sasha’s head tilted…
The President flashed a smile…
John Kerry walked away whistling…
giving no notice to the photo of the
Vietnam War Memorial
as he passed

Music Selection:
The Shirelles
Soldier Boy

Oakland
6/11/14
jbm
Noor Aug 2013
Who is the man who holds my gun when the world turns deathly still,
With hardened coldness in his veins as he prepares the ****?
The roaring engine, the radio chatter, all go perfectly quiet.
All that matters is ending the threat, it starts with sight alignment.

The thumb pushes the safety.  
click
Stop breathing.  Steady.  Center mass...

Who was that man who held my body?  
Is he my enemy?  Is he my friend?
Can I please meet him again?
Hopeful,
we cities are quiet
waiting for the news to come.
We sense the message
and the terrible waiting continues.
Alone,
we pray for release from
our cruel bondsman;
the mankind
that houses inside our stomachs,
disturbing the peace
with grief
and evil.
Waiting,
Waiting,
We listen as the walls crumble and fall
as they,
our protected,
will too one day.
We wait-
silent and hopeful
for peace
that comes with regret
at the cost of man's crown
and fur robe-
Weeping,
we cities know what awaits in the skies
and the seas
and the rivers,
in the very earth we are built upon-
in the hands of our youth-
guns
and rifles
and bombs-
words of venom and acid,
fearful loathing
and fretful tears
shed over the aging walls
that wearily stand tall in defense of a broken people's heart-
disgorging their rage onto a city
that can no longer hold their bursting anger
spilling out from our cracked barriers
and lashing like fire
helped along by a vengeful wind.
Our streets and markets bleed
for the young ones of the future,
hearing their pain
their terror whispered in unheeded prayers
screamed into dark alleyways
beaten from their lips as they deny themselves-
Oh children...
Our walls are too weak to hide you,
our guidance too frail and unheeded.
We cannot stand strong this time;
Forgive us,
forgive us as we fall to dust.
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