Monday, January 4, 2010

Prisoners of War I- III

The forest burns with bright
and the light,
Burning throughout time
never going out.

Life burns as it dies
it's acid smoke
clouding reason now
always choking out.

Death brings together
us in our time
as life obscures forever
altering our hate.

One Molotov cocktail we
drink, extinguishing the
flames of discord, fanning
the flames of unity.

War in the Cities, in the minds,
in the schools, everywhere
not escaping, not taking
Prisoners of War.

Buildings crumble, fall apart
distortedly showing just how
for apart we are
always, alone: always in fear.

Our minds can not understand
other each now; why - why not,
the gulf of humanity
gaping wide swallowing you and me.

Burn - it burns us, War - it
creates war in us, hate - we
become it. Not a way
out of it for the lack of compassion.

Compassion, they don't know it.
It does not exist out there. In the
out only manipulation and wants
exist - the same as warfare.

All lacking the item to save,
to redeem the souls of the lost,
not in war can they see
what is lost - it is not the buildings.

Twisted over the urban battlefield,
souls fail to know how
and finely why: Ghosts of
perception scream out.

Scared, blacked, and wrecked
beyond recognition, they drift
between the alleyways and streets -
skeletons of humanity.

How many are there - lost, gone into
the haven of hate. How
many perpetuate the war, a
urban war unlike any other.

The Molotov cocktail tossed,
crashes and burns destroying
human achievements, it's path
clear as our hate for each other.

What is it that we are doing,
what has set us on this path.
The lost ones lost forever, how
can it be? Not as we want it.