Poetry

And the War goes on...
By Eden Holend Roemer | Puppetgov

And the War goes on…

In dregs and druthers

Band of brothers and sisters

Foot soldiers

Are the chosen few

To go and do

What we dread to tread

And still they have to do….

This thing this aweful terrible….

They wing it

Un-responsive detachment unbearable

Cause that’s what they are ordered to do

To do this thing

And the beat throbs and sings

Calls the fist to jawline stings…

1-2 punch in endless fling

with pain... Read more.

"Daybreak: Undoing the Imperial Presidency and Forming a More Perfect Union," by David Swanson is due in stores September 1st, but the publisher has it now and you can get it straight from Seven Stories Press.

Memorial Day
By Gary Corseri

I am sick of the voices of heroes!
They cry from maniacal graves:

“Why do you hurry and turn away—
You who are warmed by the sun?

“Once a year, on a ‘solemn occasion,’
You come for public mourning.
Officers offer orisons.
Politicians ply for votes.

Torture: Crime versus Punishment
By George Giacoppe | Splinters

We have our ways
On the ship of State
To win your praise
While pushing fate
For the detainee
That is so unlucky
To be positioned
For Inquisition
And then to drown
While we clown

I can no longer remain silent on the false debate on torture.

May 2: A Saturday in Spring
By Richard C. Cook | www.RichardCCook.com

Today, amidst the flowers of springtime, all I really want is to be able to listen to the Silence.

Silence is the place from which every created thing originates.

Silence is the source of “the peace that passeth all understanding.”

Silence is the space between thoughts.

Being in Silence is the greatest of all freedoms.

Life and death are the coming out of Silence and the returning into it.

Listen to Big Money (v2).

Lyrics:

intro

listen up my friends it's time we paid attention

an age old specter knocks upon our door

phantom financiers hell bent on domination

they are closer than they've ever been before

it's Big Money's plan to own us for their pleasure

it's Big Money's plague that blackens all our dreams

where Big Money meets lies hidden from all measure

what Big Money says is never what they mean

Hurricane on the horizon
Judgment getting closer all the time
I can't find tomorrow
Bring peace to this troubled land...

The eyes of heaven are upon you
But so is the soul from down below
They'll cut off your fingers
To bring peace to this troubled land

Well you can stand up and holler
You can lay down and die
Bring peace to this troubled land

By Huck Gutman

It has been exciting and nerve-wracking, both, to think about what poem to begin with. I’ve considered poems by William Carlos Williams, Baudelaire, Melville, Dickinson, Eugenio Montale, Zbigniew Herbert….

I have chosen a poem by the Polish poet Zbigniew Herbert because it seems to follow so naturally from what I wrote in my introductory message: Why should we read poems?