such is this honey
syrup sweet
that won’t take a knife
to the throat of sleeping old men
who have brought us the world
crawling on their knees
through mud with guns
fighting so we could be free
yet chained to the children
they have forgotten to raise

This Means War

Not a war with bloodshed,
Perhaps a war with tears
A war expressed with language
A war that conquers fears

I feel an obligation
to exclaim my words
yet my passion must be quiet
as not to seem absurd

Fight against the ignorance
fight against indulgence
fight against the old wives’ tales
fight for common sense

Too long have we stood idly by
and let the preachers tax our ears.
into submission we have settled
and it’s gone on for years

Here’s to correcting people
the idle and the dumb
I reject your information
You’ve no source from which it comes

It spills out from your mouth,
a slack jawed petty thing,
an empty thought popped into mind
and so it you thought you’d sing

I reject your proclamation
I discredit all your “facts”
I’d tell you where to shove it,
but I’d rather you just get sacked.

One More Flower Wilts

In high school I had to complete an assignment on War poetry and write some of my own.  Here is one of my contributions.

One more flower wilts,
One more day goes on.
One more tear is shed,
One more war is won.

As the sun does set,
And the leaves fall to the ground,
A man walks off to war,
To the grave he’s bound.

We’re yet to lose another,
For death’s not overcome
A heart will soon stop beating,
No more like the steady drum.

And yet another day goes by,
We let it slip our mind,
Why do we have hate and greed?
It makes all the joy go blind.

Of all the pain in war,
And of all the suffering,
You wonder why it happens,
No happiness it brings.

And so, one more flower wilts,
One more day goes on,
one more person lost,
One more teardrop drawn.