Poems on the war

Untitled

By Jesus Correa VII

Watch them die,

slowly but surely they rot away,

evaporating,

devolving into chemicals and gases,

and no one bothers to complain,

they said it’s the way of the world,

mountains of men,

their tangled limbs crocheted into a blanket of bodies

by the nimble hands of Uncle Sam,

sent out to die, or not,

if they combat so be it,

either way they say we can’t waste time crying over numbers,

even if that number was once your son

or your brother,

maybe your wife,

once complicated compounds, carbon

and soul,

relegated to another casualty,

and thanks to 24-hour cable news channels we can

watch them die for falsified information,

and agendas,

and better economies,

watch them die for the calming of our fears,

so you can sleep safe,

and keep your eye out for your son or daughter in a pie-chart in USA Today.

USS Constitution

By Mel Schwartz

(See Walt Whitman’s “Oh Captain, My Captain”)

Oh captain, my captain, I fear our ship’s adrift.

I know our founder’s vision; what’s caused our course to shift?

“The sea is vast and puzzling; sometimes reason I must forgo.

But I know things that you don’t know, and do not need to know.”

Commanders in the pilot house, it seems we’ve launched attack.

According to convention, should we not have just turned back?

“The sea is vast and puzzling; sometimes treaties we must forgo.

But we know things that you don’t know, and do not need to know.”

We’re headed towards the wreckage; the other ships have turned.

As the flames grow closer, will we see our own flag burned?

“The sea is vast and puzzling; sometimes allies we must forgo.

But we know things that they don’t know, and do not need to know.”

We’ve taken on great damage, mangled bodies on the deck.

Has anybody on the bridge survived this dreadful wreck?

“the sea is vast and puzzling; sometimes sanity must go, for

I know things………… …………. ……………..”

Dedicated to W., the anti-president.

Time Is Now

By Gerry Woods

we weep

we cry

we grieve

for young Americans

sent off to fight in our name

killed or maimed

all in a game

for the political gain of the sissyhawks

we weep

we cry

we grieve

for the Iraqis

killed or mutilated within seconds

directly by our weapons

or by lack of our promised protection

for we did not stop the game of the

sissyhawks

we weep

we cry

we grieve

for the weakness within ourselves

our friends were bashed

and the truth was trashed

our words, our spirits must reach out

for we must cleanse the shame

of the sissyhawks

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