#reparation
*On petals of roses slid the rain drops after the storm
It was so lonely and the winter cold badly stung
All she wished for was another chance to be home
While somewhere in the wild a seemingly sad Nightingale sung
The variagated cloudy lining adjacent to a pink horizon
Held so much promise that after her storm there'd be a rainbow
That she would find her way out those concrete walls to liven
And re-kindle the flame of her life and never stumble
She had seen the roughest storms come and go
Witnessed the birds in the wild struggle to survive
She had thrown tantrums till time forced her to grow
To the realization she'd eventually safely arrive
To a promising destination, one filled with milk and honey
No matter how rough the road was and length of the journey*
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
Give us back the peace and the people you killed.
Give back the young military who sadly believed
That they were fighting for freedom and liberty.
Give back their lives, not the medals they received.
Give us back the taxes that you took from us all.
You didn’t deserve it, nor did you work for it.
You squandered our money and our time
And you all laughed at us while you did it.
Give us back the pensions that you stole from us all.
You lied to us about it as you went about it!
You sneaked and you cheated and whined,
And though you failed, tried to keep it secret
Give us back the money that you swindled away
You hid in a room when you did it, for sure
But you knew it when you did it, for sure
Now few of us have enough to insure.
Give us back the integrity you sold for gold.
You did it to enrich you and your friends
You all brayed loudly about America First!
It’s time this collusive thievery should end.
Give us back the honesty you stole from us all
It was never meant to go into your pocket
So you could strut and brag about yourselves
And wear your criminality like a golden locket.
Give us back the forests you mowed down and sold.
They didn’t grow just for your bank book balance.
They won’t grow back in a hundred years.
It is not patriotism, it’s greed and malice.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 12:40 AM UTC
We collected our shells from the shoreline,
listening deeply to hear the whispers of
Sorrows.
But all that was heard was a fabrication
of what needed to be heard,
No reparation.
There is a breeze on the shore, it carries
our cares away. We moved on again as
there are always more shells to listen upon.
Our feet collected on pebbles,
throwing one it skipped for a moment
sinking like the apology never said.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 10:33 AM UTC
Though I will
always fight
against my war
at one point
I know
standing down
will be
the right choice
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 1:33 AM UTC