POETS4PEACE

Peace Slept by J. Lorian Young (69)

2009-12-16T14:55:00.001-05:00

The jewel shone brightly,

upheld by the breath of the Universe

in its orbit around the sun.

She wept. And a river overflowed.

What is it now? she cried,

her voice thunder in the mountains.

Again the fever was high

and the child lay shivering

in his cradle.

Each time he seemed stronger,

able to survive,

the infection renewed;

wracking his small body,

wetting the sheets on which he lay,

destroying his strength

and her resolve.

It came from the jewel;

her emerald,

green and blue and glistening

in its orbit.

It was her very body,

transformed, polluted,

poisoning her baby

with every feeding.

It was the infection.

It was Legion.

It was Mankind!

Why? she sobbed,

as she held the dying child

to her breast.

She had given them everything.

Had she not made the earth fruitful?

Had she not given them a garden?

Was there not water to drink,

and air to breathe;

didn’t darkness always give way

to the light?

Wasn’t there fire to warm them,

gentle springs to cool them?

Wasn’t there a cornucopia of delights

on which to stuff themselves?

Wasn’t there enough for them all?
Yes.

Then why?

Why were they never contented?

Why did they behave like dogs

afraid another has a bigger bone

from a better cut of meat,

and willing to die for the conquest

all the while missing the point?

How could they be so stubborn,

so obtuse?

How could they keep offering

up their beautiful, healthy children

as sacrifice to Carnage;

holding their very education

as a bribe to serve…if they live;

feeding their machine

with the blood of their immortality…

stroking the ego of heroics

while ignoring the courage of conviction.

Promising freedom through service,

when the only true freedom

lie dying in her arms.

The baby stirred,

his eyes wide open,

and the heavens were in them.

“Don’t give up on me Mother,”

her heart told her,

“for I am their only hope,”

And he drifted off

into a deep and troubled sleep.

WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT??
she screamed,
and volcanoes overflowed
and the earth quaked.

And the battles raged,

and the soldiers died.

And the children were without parents.

And the parents were without children.

And azure hues turned to crimson

as blood flowed into the ground.

While, cradled in his mother’s arms,

Peace slept.

© J. Lorian Young

The Monster by J. Lorian Young (68)

2009-12-16T14:51:00.004-05:00

It stirs and gives a mighty yawn
and opens one reptilian eye
then slithers out to face the dawn
awakened by a battle cry.
'Tis War that rears it's ugly head,
it's feasting ground the battle field;
painting foreign soils red
as talons crush what will not yield.
For no one ever wins but War,
the blood soaked ground its one conquest.
Then, when our souls can bear no more,
it crawls back to its hole to rest.
How many more must die in kind?
How many mothers eyes must weep
before we have presence of mind
to kill this monster while it sleeps?
© J. Lorian Young

the cost of war (67)

2009-07-17T15:07:00.002-04:00

Oh My Majesty by Diane (66)

2009-07-08T20:34:00.004-04:00

"OH MY MAJESTY"

Your crowning spires
Your towering glories
Of glass
Brick
And steel
You have stolen
The deer that roamed these hills
Before you leveled them to make
Roads of concrete
You've sired the ghettos
And molded men into vagrants
Their ladies
Are now roaming the streets
Looking for recyclable trash
Or pinning notes on doors offering
To clean the offices
To fluff the carpet
For your expensive shoes
To walk on!
Walking to your desk
Phoning to make another
Deal to develop
More human waste
Your deal with those who will give
The nod much like the
Wild mustard nods...
Nodding to me this morning...
It agreed that it was perfectly fine for all
The tiny Finches to nest
In the near-by willows.
It nodded that it heard the
Trees crash when they
Fell
It nodded that it did hear
The crack of the
Eggs the birds had laid
And it
Nodded that
That 'yes, it's sad' there's no
Picketing
When the abortion of their babies takes
Place - no controversy, as to
Whether it was legal
Moral, or right
To kill
Unborn Robins!
The token playgrounds;
The basketball poles
The nets that hang
Still hang while you
Hung
The homeless
At the same time!
The nets swing - rotted from rain
And sun
The wind blows the truth
It shreds the cotton
As you shredded the lives of so
Many now
Displaced!
Chain-link walls are twisted; bent - backs are broken
Like the bottles from the near-by bar
Where the unemployed spend their checks
And welfare dollars
Because they'll never make
Enough to get out
So why not watch the bubbles
Take their troubles
Up to the sky
Like smoke spirals
From your
Industrial chimneys!
And where is the land that grew the food
You dehydrate and package
So you can send to the victims
Of foreign wars
You started to insure
Your energy resources
That fuel our cars, trains, planes, and
Future wars?
The baby is in a cardboard box
Maybe abandoned
Or maybe just a cradle in the corner
Of the cold-water flat
The cereal is in the cardboard box
But there are little cartoon characters
To cut out
And a toy to play with
While mom is out mopping
And dad is out sweeping!
The cardboard box carries the paper
And the news
Gets printed
On that paper
That paper tells of sorrow
That paper tells of prosperity
That paper burns nicely
When you add a few sticks
So you can warm your hands
By firelight
Before you go to sleep
On the streets!
The cardboard box
Makes a great shelter
If it once housed a refrigerator
For the appliance store
The cardboard box is my boat if I believe it to be;
My car is my coffin if I don't find a warm blanket
For the night
And no one knows my name!
The birds and I cry; the Golden Rod and I nod together
The mist still seeks me out
Though it has to bend and
Stretch harder now that
The buildings block its path!
The morning sun is reddened by pollution
Yet it glows in my heart
And the music I hear
Is not coming from your newly-built symphony hall; the
Art's Center exhibits - no painting as real to me
As the one pervading my pathway
While I walk over
To smell that April violet that somehow found a reason,
And a way
To bloom!
Diane Stirling-Stevens
2/6/1997

waxing and waning by betmo (65)

2009-06-14T06:45:00.004-04:00

early morning sun
rises upon america's
waning empire

life after birth by betmo (64)

2009-06-04T08:01:00.003-04:00

precious, unborn babes
murder done in saving's name-
while elders languish

The Planet of Trees by Diane (63)

2009-05-29T22:02:00.004-04:00

all happy talk

It's almost trite to tease

And write as I please

A simple poem; nothing complicated

No fancy words - you won't be inundated

With glorious efforts to make you seek

A meaning to this prose

That doesn't require you to 'suppose'

Simply notice what rhymes with 'trees'

Are words like 'breeze' that sometimes

Chills - we even 'freeze' when the wind blows strong

And we admire the trees who stand so strong

They don't fight; bicker, kill or complain

About not being more beautiful or whine because they're plain

They give resource and life to those who cut them down

The birds' nests forever are their seasonal crown

We build log homes; we build wooden boats

We make fences to confine our horse and goats

We carve them into totems; we hang wires from their poles

We think nothing of destroying them as if they had no souls

But when I seat myself under a sprawling willow

I look at the the sky from my down-filled pillow

I like the stars when they peek through the trees

I find my heart so put at ease

I find such a marvelous peace

..........among the trees.

America's Favorite Pastime by Spadoman (62)

2009-05-29T08:08:00.005-04:00

round circle

(sung to national anthem tune)

Oh say, can you see it?
I know light is dim
It’s early in the morning
That’s our flag still standing

After all the fighting and shelling.
The bombs dropped all around
And the damn thing still stands
We saw it last night

We watched all the night long
In the glare of the bombs
Now it waves the same way
‘Cept we start wars and kill kids

Hard to have pride when the truth is out
While holding slaves and killing indigenous people

We’ve learned our history
Land of the free and home of the brave.

Play Ball!

A Walk In The Dark, Dark Night by Time (61)

2009-05-28T23:18:00.004-04:00

time

At dusk, the fog rolls in just as the Sun hits the horizon.
Making the sky a grayish green, like an ancient plague from God.
I look down the valley of rolling hills, and see nothing.
There are no stars, there is no Moon.
The wet air chills to the bone.
As I walk, it's like walking through a cloud. The quiet is eerie.
The birds are asleep, the animals too.
The creatures of the night have decided to stay home.
I have my mission. I gave my promise to my loved ones.
Strangely, I'm enjoying the murky atmosphere.
There is a restfulness to it, that comforts me.
Still, I dream of sitting in front of a roaring fire,
my dog at my side.
I have reached the graveyard.
The fog seems to be coming out of the ground.
I can hardly see three headstones ahead of me.
The rain starts to fall, like a spray bottle mist.
I hear the Moody Blues in my head.
But all I can think about is my twin brother, who now, is dead.
My shock is gone. There are no more tears.
But the memories flood my mind, unchecked.
The burial is in 16 hours.
My job, to set the simple identifying ground stone,
which I made myself.
Then to cover the hole so it won't be water filled by burial time.
It's raining harder now, but I do my simple, dreary tasks.
From dust, to dust?
He will be going back to be part of the Earth again.
The Earth will engulf him, for it's own purposes.
He was a good man, but I'm not one for saintly eulogies.
I start back. The rain has washed away most of the fog.
The mud is thick now, making my legs tired.
In all this dreariness, I feel good.
The seemingly simple but important task for the family is done.
The weather has matched the atmosphere of the night.
Tomorrow the Sun will be shining.
I will stand in the same place I stood tonight.
I will think good thoughts then,
but tonight I walk in the dark, dark night.

PROVIDENCE by The Poetryman (60)

2009-05-22T01:29:00.006-04:00

picture story here

“Now goddamnit, now, as the burning flesh is fresh in our head.
Lord knows we can’t miss our darling reality flick of ineffectuality.
O god forbid we peer beyond the shrub and see death-death-death.
Oh no, can’t have us considering the child’s blood on our hands.
That’d mean we’d need consider our own pitching providence.”
…muttered the rain on the limb-strewn streets as we flipped channels.

Yes! Son of a bitch! Yes! I said “our own pitching providence”!
I say it that one might sneer, snicker and scoff such silliness!

I say it that others might think,
“That guy’s fanatical!”
“That man’s off his meds! This is America!”
“The greatest country on earth!”
“Ours is the sopping land of liberty!”
“The kingdom of all things divine!”

Yes! O goddamnit! Yes! I shout it for the dim-witted inundated in lies!
I utter it for the delusional crouch-down-toad deriding the spirit to speak!
I declare it for it’s in front of us screeching, bloody and boiling!

Look! Look! There! Descending the stairs is this awful something!
This thing, it pours all the magnificence and misery down upon us!
Descending the stairway dripping with the fresh blood of others,
It comes down dripping the hopelessness wrought of greed and arrogance!
Look! Look goddamnit! In its arms it carries the vanishing world!

One-hundred and twenty!
One hundred and twenty lifted by the tall indignity of empire!
Lifted apart by those waiting on god to intervene on their behalf!

We are fools! It is not on our behalf that god shall the earth render still!
It is not on our behalf that the long and towering indignity carts the world!
It’s because of our dishonor that humanity needs such nurturing at all!
Our apathy rivals any in the goddamned history of fouled indifference!

“Now goddamnit, America. Do it now you red-lipped whore of free will.
Start praising your miserable god now, America, now, as the burning flesh is fresh on our hands and we scoff at this; our pitching providence...”
Muttered the rain on the limb-strewn streets as we flipped channels.

a house divided by betmo (59)

2009-05-01T08:22:00.003-04:00

a house divided

frustration, anger
ideologies divide
with tea bags and guns

damp disillusionment by betmo (58)

2009-04-08T08:54:00.004-04:00

lilies, bunnies, eggs
'prince of peace' resurrection-
spring hypocrisy

america's new season by betmo (57)

2009-03-11T17:35:00.004-04:00

fresh breezes blow change
ushering in new visions-
perhaps springtime peace.

will tomorrow come? by betmo (56)

2009-02-22T11:26:00.003-05:00

tired, poor masses
shut out by gated wealthy-
new america

shoot the messenger- by betmo (55)

2009-02-07T14:21:00.003-05:00

honesty branded
agent of 'negativity'-
denial revered

whispers and shouts- by betmo (54)

2009-01-23T22:06:00.003-05:00

words woven, entwined
promises spoken and kept-
winter winds blow change

sdrawkcaB nruT (53)

2009-01-14T23:56:00.004-05:00

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason
to carry death there.
Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just
the sons of Abraham?

O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to
their stiff-limbed sleep
as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet,
children dying there.

I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow
of the patriarch,
asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and
leave our flesh to time?

Jewish Texts ("Turn backwards and you will see him.")

tattered by betmo (52)

2009-01-08T16:36:00.004-05:00

shattered lives and dreams
a broken hearted people-
never defeated

winter celebration (51)

2008-12-27T11:30:00.000-05:00

new year; new changes
turning fresh, crisp life pages-
january 20

winter wonderland (50)

2008-12-11T16:39:00.000-05:00

whirling, swirling snow

crowds hustling, bustling, whistling-
holiday spirit

a new day (49)

2008-11-07T08:59:00.001-05:00

old, worn days behind
fog lifting above new earth-
springtime in autumn

blood is red (48)

2008-10-18T12:40:00.000-04:00

hatred, racism
masking, hiding, covering
fear of shared sameness

buddy guy

making the world go 'round (47)

2008-09-16T08:34:00.000-04:00

electronic 'paper'
computer keystrokes tapping-
changing lives forever

turning inside out (46)

2008-08-31T19:03:00.000-04:00

boucher

disillusionment
turmoiled feelings; heart breaking-
end of liberty

tears and rain

How I wish I could surrender my soul;
Shed the clothes that become my skin;
See the liar that burns within my needing.
How I wish I'd chosen darkness from cold.
How I wish I had screamed out loud,
Instead I've found no meaning.

I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.

How I wish I could walk through the doors of my mind;
Hold memory close at hand,
Help me understand the years.
How I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell.
How I wish I would save my soul.
I'm so cold from fear.

I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.
Far, far away; find comfort in pain.
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.

Letter Carved in Stone -to those in need of it- (45)

2008-08-16T20:20:00.002-04:00

What have you done to this time of ours?
What mix of stinking wretchedness have you left us?
What in the bedraggled bottom of hell were you thinking?

You, with your godforsaken pride and lifeless eyes
With soiled thoughts planted like a rock garden,
The weight of the next idea holding down the last.
You don't understand your deplorable sins upon humanity,
You with your excuses pinned under stones of hatred.
Goddamn you. It is too late for your trite regrets,
Our hopes scrape the granite of immovable statues
Like moments in a famished dream of peace without end.

We call to thee to look back at your wanton wreckage,
To acknowledge this; our complicit suffering,
To grieve with us, our countries bereavement.
The martyrs of your making are built with straw,
Like the unholy kakashi, arms spread like Jesus,
Prepared for nothing but a murder of crow.

Death is the bitter fowl scraping at your sockets,
The harbinger tearing through your thankless nights
Like deadly shrapnel scurrying across your lawn
To mow you down. What should we do with such a gift?
The heroes tombs are all prepared, waiting for them to fall
And you sit there with a smugness reserved for kings,
Kings, whose empire’s have come and gone, who ride
Defiantly upon a beast carved from the same stone.

lament and salvation (44)

2008-08-06T12:05:00.000-04:00

"so many questions; so many answers; so many reasons; most of them wrong"

waiting, wondering
centered chi dispelled by dread-
uncertain summer

"facing the future, with the faith of my father- i let a stranger into my home. and right there before me, i saw it happen, there's no denying nothing's the same"

fading memories
of youthful summer days spent
enjoying the sun

"the truth is a highway leading to freedom. all is forgiven; love is to blame. i know the story; i read the papers; i see the anger; i feel it too"

reality looms
burdensome; causing despair
in august's dog days

"but when i see the wonder in the smiles of my children, it reminds me of dreams worth coming true. and i've seen him hold her with his head on her shoulder, singing her love songs soft as her smile. tender affection under the rainbow, holy creation, mother and child"

hope resides inside
inner peace and outer peace
sparked with compassion

kris kristofferson- holy creation

no bravery; no peace (43)

2008-07-12T08:51:00.000-04:00

human suffering
by democracy's own hands-
resistance futile.

illusory peace (42)

2008-06-22T00:06:00.000-04:00

smiling face masks lies
meaningless public handshakes-
summertime deceit

Ethiopia (41)

2008-06-21T16:18:00.000-04:00

This is my arid landscape,
My famished-brown world;
Tree trunks open to lavish homes,
Brittle branches are open arms of mothers,
The many winding roots, infinite rations,
And sunburned leaves, the cusp of laughter.

broken chains (40)

2008-06-17T09:49:00.000-04:00

intolerance looms
relationships split in two-
friendships thrown away

a dispossessed people (39)

2008-05-17T09:16:00.001-04:00

sixty years ago
dispossessed people migrate
to 'the promised land'

promised by fictitious god
land already occupied

western powers meddling
where millenial wars fought

no thought given to
dispossessing occupants-
branded terrorists

bush speech to the knesset may, 2008

"The only reference to Palestinians came in a passage about the future of Israel 60 years from now. (emphasis mine)

"Israel will be celebrating its 120th anniversary as one of the world's great democracies, a secure and flourishing homeland for the Jewish people," he said. "The Palestinian people will have the homeland they have long dreamed of and deserved, a democratic state that is governed by law, respects human rights, and rejects terror."

the guardian, uk

of profits and men (38)

2008-05-10T07:48:00.000-04:00

world peace elusive
'manifest destiny's' role-
western world hubris

carry you home (37)

2008-04-26T18:22:00.000-04:00

'As strong as you were
Tender you go
I'm watching you breathing
For the last time
A song for your heart
But when it is quiet
I know what it means
And I'll carry you home
I'll carry you home'

baghdad, usa (36)

2008-04-20T07:55:00.000-04:00

birds chirping in trees
against a blue sky backdrop-
schizophrenia

priorities (35)

2008-04-06T10:32:00.000-04:00

human beings live
pursuing wealth and power-
forsaking true peace

mindlessly consuming to
bury insecurities

worrying others will see
frailties, weaknesses all

inner peace not found
elusive, fleeting, unknown-
but necessary.

'0' War Animals (March 19th, 2008) #34

2008-03-19T15:49:00.000-04:00

Would I hold my hand thus if I were such a murderous beast?
Asked the wolf…
Would I be thought a monster like you if I howled in horror?
Asked the sheep…
I howl for pleasure, little sheep! I consume to nourish my sorrow!
Scolded the wolf…
I do not mean to offend your howling or persuade your hunger, sir.
Prayed the sheep….
See my opposing thumb and how it can bring me such pleasure?
Inquired the wolf…
See my shivering hooves and how they frustrate me significantly?
Echoed the sheep…

The wind now wails its bitter speech as the wolf skulks nearer.

Come! Let us sit next to one another and we shall drink a toast.
Said the wolf…
I shouldn’t. It’s not right to do so while so many continue to perish.
Replied the sheep…
Thou art afraid of me, dam? Me? A creature with such manners?
Crooned the wolf…
No. I- I- I just don’t think it appropriate to toast on this- of all days.
Answered the sheep…
But this is a day of triumph! Today’s the best day to drink to victory!
Howled the wolf…
There you go again with the howling? I told you my lambs are sleeping.
Whispered the sheep…

The wind abruptly strengthens with the crow of murderous night.

Yes. Please forgive me, sheep…. …Your lambkins are precious to you?
Posed the wolf…
All babies are precious, wolf. Are yours not precious to you?
Raised the sheep…
Of course they’re precious! I would, without a doubt, kill for them!
Charged the wolf…
Of that I’m sure. But haven’t I asked you to keep your voice down?
Sighed the sheep…
Yes. But aren’t you sufficiently fearful of offending me, little ewe?
Urged the wolf…
I have not offended you, wolf. It is you that will not do as I’ve asked.
Rejoined the sheep…

The wolf now howls with a beast’s bloody bravado!

I do not believe this- Before me is a sheep that’s utterly lacking in fear?
Marveled the wolf…
I’ve fear enough. It is your opposing thumbs that are rigid with terror.

The wind stops its screeching and the sheep suckles her babies.

'in like a lion' (33)

2008-03-17T20:51:00.000-04:00

peace pagoda

daffodils peek out
from winter's long snow-
peace still trapped inside.

diplomacy- not war (32)

2008-03-08T11:56:00.000-05:00

world leaders catch on
to warmongers' fear attempts-
solidarity.

i believe that children are our future (31)

2008-03-01T23:53:00.000-05:00

bombs bursting in air
giving proof throughout the night
that peace is not there.

'the greatest love of all'

I believe the children are our are future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be
Everybody searching for a hero
People need someone to look up to
I never found anyone who fulfill my needs
A lonely place to be
So I learned to depend on me

Chorus:
I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows
If I fail, if I succeed
At least I'll live as I believe
No matter what they take from me
They can't take away my dignity
Because the greatest love of all
Is happening to me
I found the greatest love of all
Inside of me
The greatest love of all
Is easy to achieve
Learning to love yourself
It is the greatest love of all

I believe the children are our future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be

Chorus

And if by chance, that special place
That you've been dreaming of
Leads you to a lonely place
Find your strength in love

AMNESTY (30)

2008-02-05T02:32:00.000-05:00

Surrounded by beauty
From poets to man
Nestling near the unfound
Atop sweeping declerations
In grandly penned rebellion
With such tempered existence;
One, a visionary
The other, merriment
Ensnaring the mind with raging-
Thus plummets a star...
_________________________
_________________________

The soft wings of angels
Move me toward justice,
A justice whose embers are ready
To burst forth of our mystery
Crumbling `neath our feet,
Wet and full, awash over borders
And the citizenry of this world;
Faithful, thinking, ready for healing...
Might this be dawn of a needed peace;
Less for sorrow and flag
And more our song of kinship;
Human love?

one more year (29)

2008-01-29T08:45:00.000-05:00

agenda- more lies;
more killing, dying, torture.
can the world take it?

the faces of war (28)

2008-01-21T10:13:00.001-05:00

over there instead
bombs rip apart families-
they're our children too

tis the season (27)

2007-12-09T14:55:00.000-05:00

year's end approaches
holiday celebrations
are prayers for peace.

when will we see? (26)

2007-10-31T09:06:00.000-04:00

human beings all
sharing mother earth today-
no difference but skin.

cultures, religions differ;
dividing and conquering.

underneath the skin
no different DNA found-
peace still elusive.

DO NOT WEEP (25)

2007-10-17T11:31:00.000-04:00

At night when we do not sleep
And the faces outstay their welcome,
When horrors touch our dreams
And we tremble their language…

The occupation of our hearts in sleep-
O! The assassination of souls!

And this; our death stained dreams
Carried by gloom nearer to us
Will ever be in attendance
If we nourish them in our days.

blog for burma

2007-10-04T08:59:00.001-04:00

red robed monks protest
are beaten, bloodied and killed-
freedom's siren song.

autumn leaves (23)

2007-09-10T10:02:00.001-04:00

birds flying in v's
leaves change; people march with signs-
another autumn.

peace in our time? (22)

2007-09-04T19:10:00.000-04:00

bombed cars, gutted homes
ruins of an unjust war-
corrupt power reigns.

BEFORE VALOR (21)

2007-08-21T10:08:00.001-04:00

Before valor fades or a soldier’s honorably lain;
Before shrapnel and horrors stand forward;
Before the screech of missiles, snap of breath;
Before the water chokes, the marine howls;
Before the steady drum and bugle sound;
Before the sidewalks are washed of the event;
Before shivering flesh and darkness ignite;
Before food, clothing and shelter;
Before the whispered birth of wayward night;
Before all else; were we alive?

Did we sense humanity’s plea;
Grasp this; our solemn relationship;
Fortunate to have been born at all,
To breathe where breath is free;
That the world exhales next to us,
Eats, drinks, prays, dies alongside our death…

O is there no truth that lives,
That wrestles deceit to its knees;
Living that scowls at hopeless war
Whose breath stinks beyond our living?

When spirits fade and innocence slain,
Lowered to their private defeat,
With each, a world’s breath, mislaid.

isn't it time? (20)

2007-08-14T11:32:00.000-04:00

White dove; olive branch
symbols of ideals unknown-
when will peace be real?

isn't it time for us to set aside the symbols and embrace the ideal?

thinking inside the box (19)

2007-07-17T20:26:00.000-04:00

dissension stifled
censorship, conformity-
america today.

differences not welcomed here
minorities scapegoated

secrets and fears rule
critical thinking shot down-
war, not peace, is king.

MOMMY AND DADDY ARE GOING TO WAR by Melanie Rose (18)

2007-07-14T13:55:00.000-04:00

Mommy and Daddy are going to War
Computer soldiers in the sand

This time we know what we are fighting for
G.M., styrofoam and Apple Pie
“A measure of wheat for a penny,
and three measures of barley for a penny;
and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.”

Patriots eating their tails over the sky
while rich young sheiks dance the night away
in an Egyptian disco
Television magic midnight madness
fireworks scintillate in a child’s crying eyes
Mommy and Daddy are starring in a sitcom

YEAR OF OUR WAR (17)

2007-07-11T00:23:00.000-04:00

O! The half-starved nourishment will soon be complete!

Needlework, weaver of dreams... retire them.
Finish the pre-o-one warrior, end them, goddamnit!
Sprout new and green and less rebellious fighters!
Harvest mindless drones to foment the business of dying!

Our occupation of body and soul, of bombs, rape and thievery,
of blasted hope and splintered death, I take comfort in knowing
my God-spittled poems wrangled the most in them and me
and the least in me and them; these warriors built of indoctrination, constructed and instructed, programmed in wholesome insanity,
I can rest easy, eyes closed, knowing I am safe in this;
The Sixth Year of Our War.

I want to believe that this other creature… terror,
will spare me that I may watch from the comfort of my own cave,
see mere bits, shards and pieces flying apart,
Watch them filter in... detached from my own fading.

I would rather watch them, they, others,
see them... over there...
There be blown to bits, twisted in far away wreckage
than hear and see such misery before me over here…

O! Goddamnit! God damnit! God damn it! Goddamned war
is strafing my senses in the darkness of my very shape,
pointing to the heavens, arcing over the eye
like a meteor bringing home the dead,
violently attacking and tormenting my imagination!

O! Blistering comet pulling me in, you’re the needle, I’m the thread!

WORTH (16)

2007-07-11T00:20:00.000-04:00

Breath to a corpse,
A bottomless floor,
A penny to the poor,
A whispered roar;
A country's flag
is worth no more;
Illusion of truth,
Slight of hand,
Trap door.

no respite (15)

2007-07-10T10:30:00.000-04:00

where can i go?
far away from hustle, bustle- noise.
where can i go?
to escape the daily battle?
where can i go-
to calm myself before the storm?
is there no rest for the weary?

july 4, 2007 (14)

2007-07-04T08:47:00.000-04:00

left, right, red, blue
divided we stood but now-
coming together

Significant Illustrations of Return by Helen Losse (13)

2007-07-04T01:38:00.002-04:00

After the smell of hotdogs on the Fourth day of July
and spark-shooting fountains cause familial glee,
it gets too hot to wear flip-flops. But school starts
anyway. The pools close, and the pumpkins wear

silly faces (some with paper ears like the one Paul
designed). The air smells heavy with the wetness of
fallen leaves or exciting, when raked piles crackle
and burn. We pop tom-turkey into the oven, sing about

brave Pilgrims. The house smells like yams.
After the tree goes up, and the cat pulls tinsel down,
the crèche holds the Jesus-Baby and Advent-candles
glow, we trade Valentine cards. The snow blows in

(a bit later than expected) with seep snow-drifts
reaching the roof of the falling-down tobacco
shed. Cherry blossoms, azaleas come forth,
and the wind blows pollen all over the car.

The sky has grown dark and the firmament shaken.
We place Jesus’ body in a borrowed tomb
then wait together for three days. Each blossom
on the flowering dogwood forms its symbolic cross.

After Resurrection, a butterfly lingers close to
my face. We smile. We smell the delicate scent of
many roses. Then “Oh, say [what] can [we] see”
by the light of a summer dawn or any twilight’s

hot gleaming? We celebrate the yearly return
of our American birthday. Lady Liberty
waves the flag. And while an on-going stream of
hungry, “wretched refuse,” nears our southernmost

rampart, we shoot our (illegal) pop-bottle
rockets, wage war on the aliens.

tuesday post for peace (12)

2007-06-26T12:42:00.000-04:00

blue swirls with white clouds
below turmoil roils and writhes-
it's past time for peace

IN PEACE by Helen Losse (11)

2007-06-25T01:23:00.000-04:00

If we believe,
as we say we believe,
that there is a
knowledge that passes
beyond all we know
or can even hope to know
now, past all we can dream by
the rushing river or realize once
the frenzy of mystical vision is gone,
and if, in choosing to believe,
we get to knowledge-beyond-knowledge
that we do not fully possess
but believe is God-imbued,
so that just as the stream,
encountering the worn rocks and the urgent falls,
does not question the source
either of its being or its continuance,
but flows—trusting—toward the closest sea,
somehow we know without knowing
that we more than endure,
ride in wide-loving arms.

Now that’s something to know.

So why don’t we live
like the bell-shaped lilies live,
growing and thriving in peace?

LISTEN CLOSELY...YOU MIGHT HEAR (10)

2007-06-21T00:23:00.000-04:00

Now that we truly see them, the people of the world,
Why are our eyes not wet in the midst of scaly grief?
Have we not shrieked in nameless terror long enough,
Been onlooker to nightmares of insensible winters
Beckoning to us from unfilled graves etched in awe?

Now that we might truly see ourselves with the world’s stale eyes
Why do we condone the enduring massacre of even one more?
Are we so goddamned fearful to not flinch of this;
Our queasy indifference?

We should be vomiting out our coldness
And ingesting the puff-tongued hunger for peace!
We need be humble and reaching
Not bombing and preaching!
Forty-seven more bomb-split, blood-spilled,
Freedom-cuffed, breath-snuffed, and killed!

Listen… You can sense the dead eating our horror,
Heed the dry bone now bleached under dawn’s collapse,
Perceive the stars and moon tremble and overlap the other.
Listen closely; you can hear immense wings clambering for heaven.

unsettled (9)

2007-06-16T19:24:00.000-04:00

discontent runs deep
through veins of nations at war-
summertime unease

THE REFUGE by Helen Losse (8)

2007-06-12T15:25:00.000-04:00

I stopped for water by an ancient tree,
smoldering in a war-torn land.

It was afternoon, when
a fierce downpour of welcome rain

coated the fire-damaged trunk. Seated,
the refuge peered—flesh soiled—

with blackened eyes through
sunken sockets. Leafless tree limbs

failed to serve as shelter. The rain left hair,
clothing pasted immodestly to the body

and me shivering. Fears mingled in
indomitable air. Then—standing to walk away—

she nuzzled her infant to an empty breast,
the older baby to her starving frame.

Sunset followed:
predictable, like that day’s river of mud.

cherry blossoms (7)

2007-06-06T17:47:00.001-04:00

a hankasen choka by betmo- 2007

autumn politics
changed planet earth forever-
america doomed

twisted words; secret meanings
true patriots not welcomed

dissension shot down
by warriors in flight suits
'mission accomplished'

fighting terror there- not here!
families weep golden stars

the sun rises; the moon sets
another day for battle

another barrel of crude
another freedom taken.

noble truths; eightfold pathways
sufferings, attachments- life

'love thy neighbor as thyself'
gold stars replace golden rules

why can't we just get along?
why replace love with hatred?

from love springs equality
differences melt away

love connects humanity-
all children of planet earth

coexisting; living life-
spinning on the same axis.

millions dying senselessly
war becomes peace's namesake

steinbeck's moon taught no lessons
occupying land breeds hate

killing people- not their thoughts
ideas cannot be silenced

elusive peace unattained
stifled by fear- apathy

spring in washington
cherry blossoms are blooming
four years; thousands dead

grand delusions persisting-
but resilient hope-- alive.

crossposted at betmo's corner

NOW NO OTHER DREAM (6)

2007-06-06T16:57:00.000-04:00

There is now no other dream,
No other dream like the star wandering on high,
Floating like a fog on the surging ocean face;
A light that has already passed in far-flung memory.
Our forefather’s, too, stared within their grace,
The eyes of our mothers and fathers; a world
Of our tumbling through infinite space
Gazed upon them with a fearless spirit
Sculpted upon the meadows of their dreams.

We see them now not as dreams,
Not as dreams, but as our most waning hope;
Tumbling not of ideals, but of bleak daggers.
Have we not them a decent wish as they close?
Have we no more than the dark folly of man?
Might we seek it out with eyes of wisdom;
Familial visionaries in quest of peace
Standing tall above the crag of tyranny
Speckled in the light of floating wonder?

There is now no other dream,
No other dream more vital wandering on high,
Floating like a beacon through our darkness;
Radiance yet to come upon harmony inside our sleep.

i am a pilgrim seeking nirvana (5)

2007-06-02T17:31:00.000-04:00

pilgrim seeking truth
no light found only darkness-
bittersweet summer

crossposted at betmo's corner

Bring Up a Child in the Way He Should Go (4)

2007-06-02T12:09:00.003-04:00

Boys put playing cards in their spokes, eat
piles of buttered biscuits with blackberry jam.
They scorn dry toast, linens hand woven, crumbs
brushed neatly away. Boys wear the same
white shirt for days, read only comics and
the baseball scores. Oh I knew one was sent
to military school, learned to line
his socks up in neat rows, for he had read
Ginsberg and Jack Keruoac, slammed
the heavy church door in the Father's face.
He wants discipline, the voices cried.
We cannot leave him in this error. He
must learn the ways of boys who will be boys.

CARELESS CHILD by Case Wagenvoord (3)

2007-06-01T12:47:00.001-04:00

Careless child,
shredding her sneaker like that,
a single sneaker.
What could she have been thinking,
what could she have been doing
to tear it like that?

Is the sneaker really red?
Or was it white
before she spilled the cranberry juice,
the same juice that pools black
upon the pavement
next to the sneaker.

Careless child,
how did she shred it so,
leaving only the toe intact,
rending even the laces asunder
and spilling all that cranberry juice
that pools black upon the pavement?

What is that whine I hear?
Is it the child,
or a jet banking,
or an approaching drone?

Careless child,
be more careful
next time.

AFTERMATH AND CONFUSION by Helen Losse (2)

2007-05-31T15:56:00.000-04:00

We like this war,
or so the populous says,

morality bearing witness
deep as Give us Barabbas. But why—

when a host of angels will not be believed—
do forked tongues cry out loudly to the

God Baby in a manger, Bring us your peace?
That couldn’t have meant love these.

PEACE DE RESISTANCE (1)

2007-05-30T16:49:00.000-04:00

Must there be a kindness
That infiltrates the human spirit?
Must one first experience war
To fathom opposing it?
When is a bomb most torturous;
As it descends?
Upon explosion?
Or much later;
Within the moment
Of seething clarity
At a father's burying
Of his children?