"objector" poems
when i'd be asked in the past
'do you collect anything?'
as a child i'd feel an obligation
my friends collected buttons,
christmas ******* rings,
compiled shells,
or gas station keyrings
so i collected can tops
and squishy toys from beach side shops
pointy pointless scraps of metal
that now sit in a dusty jar
and stuffed lizards and seahorses
in a box under an old bed
and when they said
they didn't get it
i knew i didn't either
but i'd say the metal
is sentimental
it really is a keeper
honest
and now i'm older
i'm no objector
to being a collector
promise
because in a box
inside my heart
beyond the dust,
i'm honest,
i keep a stash
tied in a sash
of all the things
i've sprinkled with stardust
of all the memories
of days i loved
and too ones fogged with miseries
of scars formed from thunderstorms
for thorns are as much of a blessing
as the caressing from surrounding roses
of people who loved me
and people i despised
of eyes i glanced at once and
should i see again
would go unrecognised
for when i'm collecting moments
i am collecting lives
and there is no better way
to be alive
than revising every moment
as if it were chosen
by you
from that gas station
instead of just through obligation
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
Cracks in the foundation -
They don't make 'em like they used to. Chipped concrete, rusted rebar
Fading facade
I make facile arguments
Excuse myself
Blame mental illness
Blame the drugs, the molly years
Blame ****** (I don't choose life)
**** you,
Ian McGregor
Blame the ****** February weather
Blame the itchy sweater
That is life
If that truly is life then,
Become I conscientious objector?
Already live in Canada
Blame the city
Blame the *****
Blame yourself
They say we have agency
I grasp, I reach
But the fruits
Are bitter sweet
**** the bed honey
Like Spud lovely
Which lines do I keep?
And who to throw away?
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 8:22 PM UTC
Desmond Doss didn't give a toss
Cos He never carried a gun
He went to war to fight the ****
And new thy will be done.
He saved the lives of 75 men
And never fired a gun
He did this while he was under fire
And he was the only one
He was on his own on the mountain top
Looking for injured men
As A medic in the army
He did it again, again and again
Now Desmond Doss didn't give a toss
The Conscientious Objector was he
But He saved 75 Men
and was awarded for his bravery
The End
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 8:47 PM UTC
I am a conscientious objector
to this System's Ubiquitism
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
If only it were so ******* simple
we would have already figured it out
if you yourself could manage it.
But, as it seems, the obstacle is the path
and sometimes the obstacle is yourself
and sometimes the path is not the one you'd like.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 7:40 AM UTC
Is anybody out there
Are you stuck in the cold
Are you reaching for air
Don't you dare fold
Do you need somebody for you
Can you breathe
I am here for you
Come find me
If you're scared
Just please, hold on
If no one has cared
It is I you can count on
I'll be your protector
I'll be your friend
I won't be your objector
I won't leave when it's the end
I'm only a stranger
Trust me if you dare
I won't put you in danger
I promise, I care
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
Float seamlessly in dark.
Come in my arms,
like a cloud―
like a moon.
The cult will live
on for eternity to
meet the challenger.
The objector had
the flatfoot. Will walk
overdressed.
In eerie silence―
an agile titan was going
to vilify himself.
Conscientiously I
wanted to feel you once
in my verses.
No virtue, no sin
was needed to come to
the lips of an abyss.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
They stand in their uniforms straight and tall,
They are family members one and all.
They put on the uniforms, not for money, fame, or glory
But for the untold story.
The story of wanting to be free to raise their families.
A story of love, emotion, and religious devotion.
They are willing to take the stand, and become the sacrificial lamb.
They are the AMERICAN soldiers who believe in liberty
To be able to express yourself no matter what it may be.
They come from the farmlands, the mountains, the big cities
And the small towns, where every soldier imaginable can be found.
Just read the story of Sergeant ALVIN YORK who in the
First World War he had fought.
He was a conscientious objector who came from the upper
Farmlands of TENNESSEE – didn’t believe in war but wanted to be free.
They told him about the founding of AMERICA and what they had gone thru
And to make a decision of what he wanted to do.
He sat on the mountaintop staring across the land
Knowing he had to make a decision – he had to take a stand.
With the thought of the bible s verse “thou shall not **** “
And the other thought saying “freedom is not free”
This has been going on throughout history.
He and nine others captured more prisoners than they dared to count
This is what AMERICA is all about.
louis rams
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
They'll shoot me in the morning,
for leaving my **** post;
by the time you get this letter,
I'll probably be a ghost.
Didn't want this ******* war,
stabbed the dummy and yelled ****
not my idea of passing time,
not my usual kind of thrill.
I'm a pacifist at heart,
learned my lessons the hard way;
now my Uncle Sam,
requires me to stay.
But I said, no, not going to,
I hopped he Greyhound Bus;
said good riddance to it all,
now, what's the ******* fuss?
A simple parting of the ways,
is all that I desire;
I got burned by Army brats,
got too close to the **** fire.
They'll shoot me in the morning,
with a blindfold... or without;
this poem's my legacy,
the last and final shout!
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
I can't do it!
Don't force me to ****
Don't give me that gun!
It gives me a chill!
I can't take a life!
It's as important as mine!
This feeling should be mutual!
Then war would decline!
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC
It was immaterial who had fired the first proverbial shot in the great Schenectady logomachy.
What was immediately clear, however, after the proverbial dust had proverbially settled
was that the battle had left no survivors.
Proverbially.
And what had begun as a simple ballot measure to rebrand the municipal mascot
had ended in the annihilation of every intellect in Schenectady County.
And much of the East, West, and No Coast regions of the United States.
The grass roots campaign to replace the Schenectady Patriot with the Schenectady Concientious Objector
(a figure no less devoted to country, but more "free thinking," its proponents would argue)
had gathered unexpected steam when introduced to the public at large
in a tweet by the nation's commander in chief.
The inevitable result being a relentless and fast paced evolution of the story
by all-day-all-night-all-the-time news producers.
All using the same words with different tone and inflection.
And the relitigation of every detail
by 37% of American households.
Including 6% that didn't actually give a **** but enjoyed participating.
So what had been good natured
and modestly ambitioned
civic badinage
progressed through all the stages of twenty-first century newspeak
familiar to the politically observant of the time.
With any nuanced or genuine debate
relegated to micro-audienced podcasts
and IRC channels scattered about the internet.
And when the measure passed.
As part of a pendulum swing greater than itself.
The victors
taken by surprise
and frayed at all edges
by the death threats and vitriol visited upon them in the preceding weeks
felt sure
that everything would be better off simply left alone.
While their detractors
apoplectic
foretold the end of civilization.
And prepared accordingly.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 6:02 AM UTC
oppressive season
causes a struggle to breathe
unseen pressures mount without count
as prophetic undertones threaten mankind –
I try to unwind with Kind I grew myself
but the smokey flavor offers no solace
placing my weary head into my earth-stained hands
and any attempt at plan formulation is met
with only the recognition that the tears
falling from my cheek to the dusty ground
are not only soundless, but barely alter the brown hue –
Not often am I left uncertain of what to do
Normally I tighten boot straps and **** in the gut
pick myself up and continue the fight…
today tiredness overtakes me, breaking my
spirit and filling me with fear
unable to steer clear the queer feeling
takes my complete focus
So long since I gave my laurals some work
too much time has passed for me to go all
conscientious objector
the debt collector knocks incessantly
the phone has not been quiet for days
grinding gears and twisting metal
fill my ears……..
and the sirens…….
the sirens………
the sirens………
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC