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Showing posts from April, 2012

What We Are

We were Children once, innocent, lost in an imaginary world without bars, confusing faraway fireflies for shooting stars, playfully skipping on the narrow paradise road, believing that the purity of our hearts would get us there, but the scales on our eyes finally fell off, thanks to Men of God who teach and scoff, commercializing the once narrow road to paradise.
We were naive once, ignorant, living amongst pygmies and thinking ourselves giants, reveling in the grandness of our little world, intoxicated as we sipped our folly by pints, nescient of contemporary teaching, but we met men who towered above us, we were humbled, re-educated, joined a new bus, Exchanging one form of ignorance for another.
We are Men now, enlightened, ours is a world of our own machination, having learned the ropes of this world, harmonized with the iniquities of our time, we shrewdly shed our simple nakedness, found a way to be immortalized in our prime, bribed our way through the Pearly Gate, having finally accepted the fallacy …

The World Is Not Enough

Old Men declare wars, Young men die in it, Then Old Men get the glory and more.
Will it ever end? 
Young Soldier like an Ox, Tried and true, Young Soldier now in a Box, Fried and blue, Packaged to Mum with endless rue.

This bloodshed has been forever, We all had a part of it, The West, The Far East,  The Middle East,  the Near East, The bloodbath still lingers on. Every day I ask, “What is this beast?”
I’ve lost count, World War 1, World War 2,  The Cold War,  The Gulf war and all the namelesses, Little people, little towns totally razed: I’m sick of it God must be too.
I think God is polyglot, He must be. Every day he hears the cries and wails of mothers, Inaudible,  loud,  in a thousand tongues, Cries for sons dying in faraway lands: Yes, God is polyglot.
The world is not enough: We just have to get some more.
Somewhere a Cleric calls, “Jihad! Death to all infidels in the land.”
In the name of Jesu Christi, Crusaders repaint the Streets of Gold in blood.
Or is it for Spiritus Mundi? Men just hankering for power,

Rattling Music of Guns