Archive for category Poems
Peace is found when the farm’s only sound is steps on the ground
Between great trees with their dead and living leaves and their
Worms and birds and bees all about, and abound, and flirt and flit around
Peace is made when we trade knives for spades:
Butchers’ blades degrade and fade away in rusty shades.
Peace is the scene when farmers plant trees:
The only death is leaves that fall with the rains washing out to the seas
Peace is stupid. It’s so absurdly vague. It’s an old wive’s illusion about some daft end-of-days.
And all of us here, in, around, and near Busan don’t need to know what someone else says about your fear of losing “peace,” or dreams of peaceful sleep, or the cat on the window sill licking clean its fleas. Poetry?! Please!
The nearest to uncomfortable we get these days is when the weather report says the tornado’s too close to our coast’s own haze. Just leave us alone from your death-drone-hum as you worry on the bone’s faux-dream home for which we now know that there’s nothing to be done.
And war is over there, down the dead-end road of Fear, or lost up that broken-sign street of Yesteryear. These days, you see, we like our violence clean, and safely savage-salvaged in some glossy shiny wrappers, provided, post and packaged by the Hollywood attackers for the corporate greed machine. Peace? Pfft. Dream!
– 16th Oct 2014
Syria’s exploding. Human rights eroding. Politics and loathing are old national sports.
Blue skies are terror, dropping in from wherever, explained by faces; truth an afterthought.
Nobel Prizers strive to hide the lie they can’t be bought, and peace dies in flames with lives cut short.
– 16 Oct. 2014