Posts Tagged ‘politics’

Dogs of War

Posted: April 8, 2017 in poem, poet, poetry, politics, war, writing
Tags: , , , , ,

Along the way, to better lands
We pass places worthy of our living
We pick our stride, don’t look aside
We deny all the fruits they are giving

We map our route, we have no doubt
We use landmarks named by rhyme and reason
We trudge ahead, we spare the dead
looking for that perfect scene and season

We travel on, when stopped along,
Turning away, all things wild or human
Soon will be the day, I will say
kill them, burn and pillage to my crewman

Swords we hone with sharpening stone
We break bone, slash gut, red flesh and tendon
On knees they cry but life’s denied
Broken bone and bleeding wounds no mending

When we are done, the spoil is won
Women, food and prize are for our taking
We burn the rest, leave mud and mess
Only black smoke left of our cruel making

Pay us for, we are dogs of war
We sell our arm and sword for gold coin
The pain we give, so greed will live
And will deny it was of your doing

DSS

Old men feeling the foreplay of the sensuous tug of war
Old men that have forgotten or have never known the smell of the smoke of death
But with blustering words from their arm chairs and their long tables
they easily speak of sending the young Armies
who believe the words shouted from the podiums of these old casual heroes.
Casual heroes that now voyeur from hovering satellite views
and the green starlit 20,000 foot cameras of robot planes.
Old casual heroes with hard-ons and loose belts, craving their pornography of war.

DSS.

(Let’s keep our eyes on the ball, soon there could be a lot of unusual things happening outside of the U.S. to distract us from a lot of unusual things that will soon be revealed right here at home.)

Captain! Sometimes the most important person is you!
You!….. you dizzled drapes dropper
You! …. you measly mound of moose melt
Get up and fight the sons of bitches!
Hit ’em in the face!
Kick ’em in the balls!
Fuck’em up!

Now wait a minute……..
Think about this
The last skull you cracked still isn’t healed.
And you lost your Secret Society of Greenwich Ring.
Oh! Those were the days!
There was beer, blood and Brylcreem
smeared all over everything.
Royal Fly-boys!…. the Bastards!

Wake Up!!

Whew! That reoccurring WWI dream again!
What time is it?
6 O’clock already!

I HATE Daylight Saving Time!!!

OC

(DST has that affect on some people. This is OC’s  twice annually modified rant about it. Brylcreem??  John   )

“It seems our leaders need reminded, there are those that don’t seem to remember.”  John

Reposted from July 4th

SilentLips

We the People, we who remember.
We are the pushed, the shaken and the torn.
The good are taken from us,
some taken to lead,
some to do our bidding
some to succeed,
some to die.
We the People, we who remember.
We are the hard-working and the builders,
the unspoken, the wholehearted.
We the tolerant, the patient, the taken advantage of.
Quiet with ideals too hard to express,
We the People, we who remember
the good of every man, of every good cause, of every dream.
We, the Children of the Mother of Exiles *,
the mother who speaks with silent lips.

DSS  7/4/2011

*The words “Mother of Exiles” quoted from the famous poem “New Colossus”.

What’s that I’m hearin’
I hear people cheerin’
while old folks are die’in
young kids are starvin’
while woman are hurtin’
they act so for certain
the dogs are collectin’
the good to be changin’
to crap they are sayin’
get rid of these fuckas
they think that we’re suckas
these financial magicians
are takin’ positions
Takin’ over and destroyin’

to hell with protectin’
the dogs are all barkin’
all good is forgotten
Think only of wallets
it must all be for profits
What ever they’re doin’
We must get rid of this ruin.

E.

Boomer’s Rage

Posted: January 19, 2017 in poem, poet, poetry, politics, Sixties
Tags: , , , , , ,

(I wrote and posted this a year ago, I felt it coming, now we are going to see it coming!)

As I go stumping through the day
full filling dreams of other’s say
I count the months and the day
That I’ll be free on my own highway

I’m not young I have reached the age
that I can crawl from this cage
Take some time to disengage
Be free of toil and daily wage

Write a word, build a craft
Drink my whiskey, have a laugh
Get up late then take a nap
Put on my head a liberal’s hat

Scream the words, that I’ve suppressed
Of oil and air and climate’s mess
Opinions kept, so close to chest
Like a caged bird sings, I will confess

Protest and rage, make a change
March the streets, rearrange
For I sold out for profit’s gains
All along we were all shortchanged

It’s not too late, songs will be sung
Painted signs and banners hung
On granite steps, speeches flung
Our 60’s youth not wasted, on the 60’s young.

E.

 

Well, another year begins. 2016, if this century could drive, it could get its driver’s license this year. It is at that awkward teenage time of life. Its male side is walking around with a perpetual boner and not really knowing what to do with it. And worst of all, centuries don’t have thumbs and can’t effectively do anything about it anyway. So we don’t know what kind of trouble it will be getting into compensating for either short coming. The female side of this teenage century feels like she is 21 and doesn’t understand that there are no older male centuries out there that she can relate to. She wants to move ahead and start acting like an adult, although she is not quite experienced enough to survive in it. Very frustrating century age for her to be. Tempers on both sides can flare!

As you can see, we living in this 21st century teenaged age are living in a very critical time. If either side of this 2016 age doesn’t get laid soon, we are going to be in a hell of a mess. Just look back through past century’s teenage years and it will scare the hell out of ya! Many cruel historical events happened in each century while in its teens.

So what’s it going to be, this 2016? Will our male side of the century continue blustering around overcompensating for its short dick by getting bigger guns, building for war and self-protection and pushing the downtrodden,  the poor and displaced. Or will it just calm down a bit, read some good books, learn how to drink, smoke a joint or maybe just get a magazine and grow some thumbs. Get rid of some of that testosterone. Chill for Christ’s sake! You are only 2016!

And the same for the 2016 teenage century girl side. Trust what your 20th century mother has told you. Your mind will grow into your lovely new 21st century body. The man side will soon see more in you than just sex. There is time for you to make a huge mark in the world. This will be your century. Just enjoy your youth and don’t try to grow up so fast. But learn to compete with the male and female assholes! You are only 2016!

I’m sorry I have to talk to you this way so early in the year, 2016. But it is a very critical age you are living and lots of people are depending on you. So take your old Uncle ShipSmoke’s advice, and try to play nice this year, calm down, take a breath. I’m getting old, my bones hurt and I need the rest. But try to shut the fuck up and enjoy your time here!

DSS

(Thanks DSS! , E or OC couldn’t have said this any better themselves.  John)

We the People

Posted: July 4, 2015 in poem, poetry, politics
Tags: , ,

Happy 4th of July, Independence Day!
I will be eating a few hot dogs, exploding a couple of bags of fireworks with my Granddaughter this evening and stopping to ponder periodically through the day on the significance of what we are creating here. This country is still being created. What the founding fathers did on this day over two hundred years ago was only planting a seed, one hell of a big seed, but a seed none the less. This country is passed on to each generation. And when we are handed that baton it is up to us to run with it. We should take that responsibility seriously. It is not a game, it is not politics and it is not the one that makes the most money wins. It takes all of us to make this country great.

What we have can be taken from us in a manner of months. Our defense is not against foreign powers. Our defense is not against splinter religious fanatics. What we defend are our ideals. And we should protect them. We should not let our ideals that this country was built on be distorted. Not distorted for political, corporate or personal gain. We are all in this together, United. Even for the smallest minority. In our Republic we do things for all men and let no one be left behind. We are a country that is flexible enough to sacrifice for the good of others not just ourselves. The majority may get the most votes but we can never force our rule if it is unfair for any other man. A lot of times we get that majority rules thing a little mixed up. That’s why we have the Bill of Rights, the Constitution and the Amendments. If we see that any of these documents start stepping on We the People, we are smart enough to give a little in the argument to be fair to everyone. In our struggles of war and defense of our ideals, the minority and the less fortunate were up there on the front lines and in the production factories in as great or greater force than those that felt they were more. We the people, the ones that remember, know this.

We the People

We the People, we who remember.
We are the pushed, the shaken and the torn.
The good are taken from us,
some taken to lead,
some to do our bidding
some to succeed,
some to die.
We the People, we who remember.
We are the hard-working and the builders,
the unspoken, the wholehearted.
We the tolerant, the patient, the taken advantage of.
Quiet with ideals too hard to express,
We the People, we who remember
the good of every man, of every good cause, of every dream.
We, the Children of the Mother of Exiles,
the mother who stands with silent lips.

DSS Posted 7/4/2011

Casual Heroes

Posted: May 7, 2014 in free verse, politics, war
Tags: , ,

Old men feeling the foreplay of the sensuous tug of war
Old men that have forgotten or have never known the smell of the smoke of death
But with blustering words from their arm chairs and their long tables
they easily speak of sending the young Armies
who believe the words shouted from the podiums of these old casual heroes.
Casual heroes that now voyeur from hovering satellite views
and the green starlit 20,000 foot cameras of robot planes.
Old casual heroes with hard-ons and loose belts, craving their pornography of war.

DSS.