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Why War (poetic)

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posted on Jun, 14 2009 @ 09:25 PM
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The people shout and wave their flags
to war to war they cry
they give no thought to the tragedy
to the many innocents that die
a baby dead in his mothers arms
tears streaming down her face
first her husband now her child
but its not your life displaced
bodies laying in streets
the soil soaked crimson stained
for yesterday from the sky above
the missles heavily rained
Bomb ravaged villages
whole towns blown to dust
does this have to happen
to the greedy yes it must
But tell me who will cry for you
who will give a crap
when one day it is your town
that is blown clean off the map
Who is going to comfort you
when death isn't across the globe
but right in the very neighborhood
that you have lovingly called home
war is not the answer
indeed it never was
all we want is peace
but no one listens to us
we are just the puppets
the masters pull the strings
if its war that they want
they'll get that very thing
who are we to question them
that is what they think
perhaps we will wish we had done more
when its we that are on the brink....




posted on Jun, 15 2009 @ 01:02 AM
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Sometimes war fix things and teach us things...



posted on Jun, 15 2009 @ 05:53 PM
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reply to post by Greenize
 


You put my thoughts into words better than I could have!

It's always sickening to watch others ignorance spread like wildfire to the minds of those that are incapable of walking in another's shoes just for a minute. Man seems incapable of just imagining how awful war is but in the blessed US of A we fail to realize how awful many things are since we are exempt from them.

But you put it perfectly when you said:



But tell me who will cry for you
who will give a crap
when one day it is your town
that is blown clean off the map




[edit on 15-6-2009 by N3krostatic]



posted on Jun, 15 2009 @ 11:44 PM
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reply to post by rokondo
 


I can't argue with you about that, because I don't know, but I think your signature speaks volumes!



posted on Jun, 15 2009 @ 11:48 PM
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reply to post by N3krostatic
 


As always, thank you! This poem was brought about by a dream that I had. It was creepy! Me and my family were in a "tent" city...I came out of the tent just in time to see a missle,, a small one of some sort spewing a yellow fog, fly over head...I woke up freaked out.



posted on Jun, 16 2009 @ 12:17 AM
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reply to post by Greenize
 


I've had apocalyptic dreams myself. Mine was after the world lay in nuclear winter. I was desperately searching for my dad and other siblings while part of some revolutionary or bandit group. It too woke me up, rather violently actually. But it has been some years since I've had a apocalyptic dream. Most are pizza dreams and zombie dreams these days.


Dreams are wonderful inspiration for poetry. Sometimes the best.



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