Armies Aren't Me

War horror, that all mothers abhor
to whore after war is to be
a creature not of four feet
but of fleets, armies on two feet
air forced out of young lungs
to songs sung in forced unison

Fathers to sons, blood lines run, into a firing,
war never complete, but always to be, repeated
like a Sisyphus curse
it comes down upon us from a hill
a hell, that foretells

A war before, foresees the need to deploy, anew
always a new reason, a new rhyme, a hymn
another him, a her, a new date
that separates, in time, to the same lines
right and wrong sung in song, belonging to hate
it’s getting late

No way, to say, no to war un …
till the few become the many, and the
many overcome the news
till the old faithful awake to retake
and re…view the recurring news
controlled inside political pews
lined by rear admirals and corporate heads
Who make ends meet, through runs of neat spread sheets
that cover up the dead
spread sheet dead will continue to be
retread to be read
as justification for more dead heads

This war footing will continue to steep
our species in the dull drums
of life, less, listing, of names
blown apart by war

Walls built that tilt then fall
into hands wringing to wager
another age of youth on the unrepenting theme
not a day dream, but the nightmare
that yet another war must be fought

This thought, that another war must be fought
is placed in me and we
it’s a wrought iron formula
cast down upon us
to encage us
and we must face this enemy in our own, mind
placed in me

The enemy ….. my need deep in me ….. an enemy

To them!

Armies, aren’t me

The need in me, is to press, the need in we
until our will ….. power
creates a destiny, a legacy that foresees a future
by creating a … present … a me, a we, all of us

a world
free of war
real enemy

1/10/02 – 2/2/02

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