|Somewhere a child is crying,
Somewhere a man is dying.
And man -irrational child of gauche, undignified reason
Comes face to face with his brother,
But fails to recognize him
Because his eyes are of a different shape
Or his tongue is unintelligible
And there are no Abels only Cains
A truckload of singed,
Disfigured dead babies - Toasted by war's hot breath
Are dumped into limbo
And the earth is sore, Growing old with many pains,
Many heartaches That keep reoccuring
-Feebly taking " black pills,"
Thinking they will "help" to end the pain,
Only to find out the pills are made of gunpowder
And the doctors are all quacks. ..
How does the world tell a lonely woman
That those Christmas cards
She ordered, must all be brought back,
Because there no longer is a "Major and Mrs. Smith"
-Just Mrs.... The Major was killed today
Here we sit afraid to advance forward
Because of "WORLD OPINION" –
Afraid to step backward for fear we may fall into the graves of those
Who died here, and, while we're lying next to them,
How do you look at a skeleton
And explain with any degree of sensibility that
His death was just a fleeting fancy
And that he fought to stimulate the stock market??
..And as he slowly crumbles to dust
-How will he find his justifications in that?
They say that we are fighting there to confine Communism
And keep it from our shores in this bloody parade we call WAR
But, how does one hold a tidal wave? - or clutch a cloud?
It's not a disease we can seek a cure to,
because the bacteria are human beings,
who think they're just as right as we do
-and maybe they are.
We've all become judges of one another
- judge, jury, and executioner
but, who are we to say to the insane,
"I'm sorry, you're nuts, you're out of your tree"
maybe we're the nuts.
We've lost our perspective.
And, as I sit here before this crucifix,
I wonder where humility has gone, when it began to leave us
-and why it has abandoned us now???
|Ugly But Hopeful
written when I was in High School
|The year was 1967 visions of war pervaded our TV
sets,conversations centered on war, who was going, who was
not. Our patriotic young men were being sent to a faraway
land, many ( too many ) returned in body bags....or not at
all. The ones who walked off the plane were often met with
protesters. My poem that follows is very, very simplistic, and
oh so typical of a teenager, who was feeling things that had
no labels...crying tears...and asking
where have all the young men gone ? Long time passing....
|God Bless our Vets everywhere - whatever their country- whatever
their war....and Thank You !