The Poetic Political
Fumings of a Feisty Feminist
Making waves of change, one poem at a time.
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Standing at the podium
He stood so tall and proud His smile spread across his face And his voice boomed bold and loud The jets flew ‘cross the sky The rain began to pour He started to tell stories Of the Revolutionary War. But there was something new I’d never heard before History now revised Of long gone days of yore. Fort McHenry’s rockets Were from a different war And “our Army manned the air”? Oh wait, but there is more! “It took over the airports” But planes had yet to be. It seems our brilliant President Should retake History. At a recent rally, Trump began to reflect upon the Revolutionary War and how we "took over the airports" as well as referencing Fort McHenry's rockets, which were from a different war. (Revolutionary war was in 1775....airplanes invented in 1903). https://time.com/5620936/donald-trump-revolutionary-war-airports/
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Twenty two is far too many
Twenty two families in dismay. Twenty two lives gone too soon Twenty two suicides every day. Soldiers broken from battle Their minds left torn apart By injuries left unseen But tearing at their heart. I’m so sorry for their loss I’m so sorry for their pain I wish I had the answer But they didn’t die in vain. We feel your suffering We see your sorrow now We understand the hardship With this we do avow. Although there is some controversy as to the "22" number figure, the suicide deaths among our military members is too high. The link better clarifies and explains. https://www.stripes.com/news/us/va-reveals-its-veteran-suicide-statistic-included-active-duty-troops-1.533992 When the airplane crashed
And the President died Peace perished While hatred ...violence ...destruction Engulfed Rwanda. Hutus slaughtered Tutsis. Families turned on each other Women were raped by neighbors Fear permeated the hot, dry air To breathe meant to taste death. Hundreds of thousands of lives gone So quickly. They tried to flee They tried to hide They tried. And yet So many died. Murdered violently, viciously. How can one human do that to another? How can there exist such a hatred so vile? How do you overcome such pain? My heart aches for their loss Their suffering Their hurt. How does one heal Once you have survived One hundred days of hell? 25 years ago a genocide occurred that would forever stain our world. For one hundred days over half a million Rwandan’s were killed (not just Tutsis but also Twas and moderate Hutus were killed), violently, as their neighbors and even family members turned on them. As America stayed silent. We closed our eyes to the pain of so many. I am ashamed to have not learned of this atrocity until 25 years later. I recently read the book, “The Girl Who Smiled Beads” by Clemantine Wamariya. Healing can only happen once voices have been heard. I hope you will hear her voice as well as so many others who endured one hundred days of hell. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-48673713?ocid=socialflow_facebook&fbclid=IwAR3N5cLU9BBBuTsw5JWH54bu9PbqH3lNCtmOVjk2dEtVaB09JIAw3pD2fLY May God have mercy on us
For what we did that day When “Fat Man” was deployed To the startled world’s dismay. Killing 80,000 Bombs don’t discriminate It doesn’t know the difference It just incinerates. The horror it incurred The bodies left behind The ash The flames The suffering The source of its design. We built this bomb We let it drop We failed humanity. We didn’t pause We didn’t stop Question its morality. "Fat Man" was the codename for the atomic bomb the U.S. dropped on Nagasaki, Japan on August 9, 1945. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fat_Man How many “likes” today?
I really need to know It helps me set my policies And those I should forego. 20,000 likes today I better bomb Iran. But look at North Korea Emoji face with frown. Everybody loves my tweets They’re the greatest in the land. But Russian bots like me the most America be damned. I recently read the following article referencing how Trump uses Twitter and social media “likes” to help set/shape his policies. What a dangerous precedent/“president” to set. http://nymag.com/intelligencer/2019/05/how-trump-uses-likes-and-retweets-to-shape-policy.html Jewish, Muslim, Christian
All spiritual competition. First dictated Texts created Then translated Into religious hatred Now indoctrinated Their destiny fated. Our sisters and our brothers Murdering each other. What of “Love one another”? Pick and choose your verse Quite the colossal curse. God is not around To clarify and expound. Never stopping to consider There will never be a winner. So we continue down this path And mourn the aftermath. From the Christian victims in Sri Lanka, to the Muslim victims in New Zealand and the Jewish victims in Pittsburgh…religious hatred is a global epidemic. Are we actually that dumb
Are we really that naive Do we honestly believe A gun’s the only thing Protecting us from government That may come for us some day It’s 600 billion dollar budget And massive arsenal cache But you hold your guns real tight If you think that just might work I’d like to think realistically In this world that’s gone berserk Your guns won’t do a thing When a bomb is being dropped But rather an educated people And the morals we adopt Will do more than a bullet To guard our country’s safety Our brains against the brawn Of the Army, Air Force, Navy They don’t tell you this in school
They skip over most of it The reality of what happened And the terror we inflicted. Avoiding the conversation The truth of what we did Multitudes of casualties Including women, babies, kids. When we dropped the atomic bomb We stopped hatred in its tracks Our fear and anger vanquished In our monstrous attack. The explosion felt for miles As the ceaseless fires burned We murdered innocent lives Condoned as war adjourned. Weapons of mass genocide We slaughtered them with ease And those who didn’t die Were injured and diseased. The blood, the flames, the screams Burning flesh the strongest smell As ash flew all around them Immersed in Dante’s hell. We did this to Japan We did this to its people There’s no winner in a war When it’s evil vs. evil. I wrote this poem after watching a National Geographic documentary the affects of the US dropping the atomic bomb on Hiroshima: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIs4TLRA1dU I wrote this poem after seeing the latest NRA recruitment video that calls for violence and these videos of pastors preaching about firearms and assassinating abortion providers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZV1nonDZ5PM https://thinkprogress.org/in-churches-across-the-country-far-right-pastors-preach-anti-gay-hate-and-violence-cc82d78ada4f http://www.patheos.com/blogs/progressivesecularhumanist/2015/11/evangelist-calls-on-christians-to-assassinate-abortion-providers/ A twist on “A recipe for love” poem. https://www.scrapbook.com/poems/doc/10979.html Can you tell me how,
A terrorist is made? A heart full of hate, And a deadly hand grenade. Add a cup of fear, And a suicide vest. A mind of ignorance, And a brain that’s repressed. Two arms full of bombs, And lethal ammunition. Minced with words of paranoia, Tossed in lies and suspicion. Sunday sermons proudly preach, Hateful stories full of sin. Violence and weapons, Are the only way to win. “Freedom’s safest place” Is a Bible and some mags. Stir in pious gullibility, But disguise it as the flag. Serve hot just like hell, 'Cuz it’s the only thing they know. But Satan holds the lighter, Saying “Make a wish and blow”. A terrorist is made, When we neglect to see, The NRA’s deception —camouflaged publicity. War is hell, As far as I can tell. Nothing good, Just a lost boyhood Horrible moments, Of a helpless opponent. Only dead friends, I can’t make amends. Anguish and pain, Will drive you insane. When your call to duty, Is a life of cruelty. War is still hell, as far as I can tell. (This poem was written after seeing a photograph of a solider wearing a helmet that said, "War is Hell". The photo of the soldier was taken by Horst Faas, June 18, 1965 . 173rd Airborne Brigade Battalion member Larry Wayne Chaffin on guard duty at the Phouc Vinh airstrip)
He’s running to his death
As the bombs begin to fall Hot shrapnel all around Each one to close to call. The noise is overwhelming And the screams are quite intense He can see them running towards him Off in the remote distance. As he’s running closer to him We both are out of breath I’m just like him, he’s just like me We’re running to our death. I will gladly argue there’s no winners in war
Only death and destruction that we both abhor. Bodies strewn across the land Bomb shells lodged into the sand. Used brass bullet casings abound Littered dead bodies on the ground Mines left behind for others to find As a consolation prize to remind Us that in war there’s no winner—only death As we die victorious and take our last breath. We sanitize war to make it more bearable,
Concealing the truth that it’s gruesome & terrible. We remove the blood and insert our flag, We hide war’s destiny in black body bags. We talk about patriotism and our nation, Freedom & justice is our proud declaration. We mask the pain our soldiers feel, And the awful sorrow that they conceal. We dismiss the families struggle to cope. Instead we shout about liberty and hope. We ignore them when they finally return. Showing little regard or even concern, For their wellbeing and mental health. Too focused on our commonwealth. As we hang our flags and talk about pride. Pushing the apprehension of war aside. Hiding the scars and the amputees, Sanitized war’s pure reality. The kid’s not old enough to buy a beer As the recruiter whispers in his ear Telling him lies about life as a soldier Handing him forms stuffed in a folder “Make tons of money for the rest of your life And if you get married we’ll take care of your wife Just give us four years it’s all we ask Sign this form, it’s a simple task” Don’t tell them to read the tiny fine print Explaining that it ain’t no real quick stint. Or clearly stating that it can all change Your entire life can be rearranged Emiliano Santiago knows this well How the military can put you through hell Told four years was all that’s expected Then extended 27 more than he elected In 2031, he’ll be 54 And finally able to walk out the door Tell our soldiers, that they’re expendable And the contract they sign is always amendable. If you expect children to die for our nation Then recruit them with truth, not misinformation. |
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Poetry by: AsherahAlthough she was selectively edited out of the Bible two thousand years ago, she raises her voice for women today in hopes of a better tomorrow, as she makes waves of change, one poem at a time. Archives
May 2020
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