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Sunday, June 24, 2012

A Love Story of Boys & Rifles

Flowers of the Battlefield they are so Beautiful.
Boys drenched with bullets to the bellyful.

Blood of my Forefathers.
Redemption, Nobody Bothers.

In death we find only Inadequacies.
Red Rivers of Causalities.

Blood Spilled for Future Generations.
So we wear our Military Decorations.

Finally Boys find their Aspirations.
Their Highest Motivations.
Patriotic Affiliations.

Rifles in the Meddow.
To Seek out our Manifesto.

War Drums to the Tempo.
Battle Cries Out Chirp the Sparrow.

For to Long We Have Become a Nation Drowning in Blood.
It's a Catastrophic Flood.
Thousands Dead in the Mud.

History Takes Our Boys Off.
Asking For Deeds to Rough.

Out There Young Boys become Men.
But History Takes Them Time and Time Again.

So We Say Our Amen.
Hoping They'll Be Safe Then.

Though It Doesn't Do A Damn Thing When.
We Get A Body Bag Ken.
And A Casket For Jenn?

After What I've Seen.
Soldiers As Young As Thirteen.

How could I ever Believe?
That we are Anything but Killers.

So many Lost.
Is this what Freedom Cost?

And for What.
I raise this Question to the Almighty.
In His Anger He Can Smite Me.

Why do Young Boys Fight the Wars of Old Men.
Again and Again.

1962

i am a slave
i am a slave to the times i live in
my skin may be black
but i have a heart of gold
i am different from no white man
i am the same
and i should be able to live the same
learn the same
but i cannot
and my own country punishes me so
i have marched for my cause
i have bled for my cause
and i will die for my cause if need be
i follow a pacifist approach
i do not raise my fist
i take my wounds
and i do not shy away from the pain
i'm here to fight the good fight
to my last breath
so that my children can live
because this is not life
they say this is freedom but it is not
they say this is equality but it is not
i want the white man's justice
to be the black man's justice
these are my natural rights
because i to am american

An Iranian's Story

As I watch the American soldiers the rugged terrain for survivors he wondered if this once great nation would one day see prosperity and peace again. The beautiful green trees that fill the landscape are no longer trees but cover on the battlefield. Its a hot day for fighting and the hard working villagers of this country are quite trenched in sweat after moving so many broken bricks and stones. The brave citizens of Iran are ready for hardship. They don't shutter at the sound of bullets and the smell of flames. Its called war and for now its here to stay.   

Saturday, June 23, 2012

I Am Iron Man

I wear a suit of Armour.
And I feel amazing
The rush it gives me
It cannot be explained
Nobody will ever understand
But I understand
I've spent my life making weapons
Big toys for big men
Its how I've made my living
But now my weapons are in the wrong hands
And I have to stop them
I created these weapons
Now Americans are dying
Being killed NY my inventions
Its not a black and white world
We have to make these decisions
Every single day of our life
So I'll make my decision
I don't want it. 
I don't want it anymore
I have enough money to last me three life times. 
But I don't care.
That's not important to me.
I just wanted to be great. 
Like my father.
I wanted him to love me.
Be proud of me.
Who can make me into a perfect man. 
None other then iron man. 

Captain America

I come from a different time.
Why am I here.
One day its 1941.
The next day the war is over.
And 70 years have passed
What happened to the world I knew?
It left me.
Or maybe I left it.
I had a woman waiting for me.
But she's dead now.
But one still lives.
The red skull.
I don't know how.
It doesn't seem possible.
My ship went down.
And so did his.
What man could survive the debts of Antarctica.
I was rescued.
Who rescued the red skull.
Yet he lives.
What government aids him.
What men follow him into battle.
Who in this world cries out red skull red skull.
In their last dying breaths.
Who would cry out red skull.
I think I know who.
Steven Rogers.
Better known as Captain America. 

The Incredible Hulk

People have shot me.
People have stabbed me.
People have even tortured my body.
But it only makes me angrier.
I only asked for a normal life.
But those wishes were not received.
Instead my own government hunts me.
Like an animal.
And I hate it.
And I try to hide.
But they always find me.
No matter where I go.
No matter how long I keep the beast inside-me
They are always tracking me.
I've been to the corners of the earth.
But they have sent their agents.
And i lay waste to them all.
because I transform into something that I cannot control.
I am the hulk.