Monday, January 4, 2010

Prisoners of War IV- VII

IV
The only questions - why?
never to be answered for it
can not be. It is
as it is - never to change.

In the mists of conflict
we can grow stronger - such a
false idea. Can you not
see that we are destroyed?

Generations old, full of pain
and understanding hate, can not
fully correct the wounds
of our ancestors, much less ours.

Why do I hate you? My mother
hated you, and my father and all my
generations hated you. But,
do I - how can I not?

We are alike in many ways.
Hate binds us together, love drives
us apart. Our differences
are our similarities; You and me.

V
The reasoning's of war - sunlight,
moonlight, a deity, a oak,
a German Shepard, my mother, that
pencil, twenty-five cents.

The reasoning of hate - everything.
The reasoning of love - everything
How much closer can it be and
still be so far apart?

You and me - If it weren't for this
hate me would be friends,
we would be content as friends.
Would our mothers be?

History contends to repeat itself:
hate based on history - what
your family did or did not. Do you
tend to repeat history?

Are you cruel like your ancestors? Will
you kill me like that solider
grandfather of yours? close down
my shop - Your uncle?

VI
I don't want to take the risk.
My life is too precious to trust
you or your family for
generations. You are dangerous.

Never can forget what happened.
Never again will it happen. I
won't allow it. Nither will
my family; my children has been taught.

Shame is this - we can not
learn together, grow together, and
be friends. This is our
plight, our shame, our sorrow.

God, take pity on us - we
destroy each other. Where is the love?
Why such complete distrust -
why so much hate in us?

Fighting onward for everything,
never looking back, twisting our souls
and minds. Destroying our
perception, destroying everything.

VII
The forest burns bright
and the light shines
out over the world, the smoke
of destruction covers.

Life burns with acid smoke,
billowing into the sky,
buildings fall under the weight
of the billion dead.

Death becomes our final resting
place, seeing that we
in life could find no place
in peace to rest our head.