Against The Next War

This is a poem written by Paul Sunstone. Please read and reblogg if you wish to do so.

Against the Next War

(About a 3 minute read)

The internet has made it now
Bound to happen
Tomorrow or the year after.
Bound to happen.

Maybe.
Up to you.

The politicians and the preachers,
The two dogs of the capitalist class,
Will once again want a war,
Just as they always do.

War to them is a gift, you see,
It’s not personal, it’s not their blood.
But war makes some folks rich
And you will never change that,
You will never change that,
Though the dogs will bark it’s not so.

A war of aggression
Against some people somewhere,

Most likely brown,
Most likely poor,
Most likely weak,
Most likely no real threat.

War for the sake of the banks
And for the merchants of death.
War for the sake of the pulpit,
And for the corridors of power.

But not a war for the sake
Of you and of me. We don’t count.
Our side is the one side
That has never counted.
Never.

That’s how war goes, it’s always been so
And it’s bound to happen again,
Soon happen again.

This is your world,
How it really is —
The world you think,
The world you were taught,
The gods want you to live in and love
Them more than you love each other.

In your world are great nations:
Nations the greatest in history,
Nations with the power of suns,
A thousands suns,
To do good, make truths come true
For even the poor man, the poor woman,
The poor child. Make truths come true.

But these nations,
Nations great and greatest,
Act only like whores,
Filthy whores,
Fucking folks raw,
Spreading their diseases,
Recruiting new girls,
Ever younger girls
To fuck you, to fuck all of you,
To fuck everyone.

This is your world
Your world without end.

But now someday you see

Someday now for once it will happen
For once it will stop
Stop the day they give a war
And you
You rise up, join hands
By the millions, possibly billions,
Linked together by the net
And by love, and by common sense.

At last,
At last you will rise, singing
“At last my spirit shall have water!
At last my cries shall be heard!
At last my thirst shall be slaked!”

Yes, you will rise up and you will say
In a voice thunderous and magnified
By the whole world joining in,

Say, “Those people are our friends,
We chat with them by day and by night.
We know their hopes, we know their dreams,
We know their troubles, we know their fears.
We know them, we know their names.

“Jane and Matthias. Terese and Sindhuja.
Mark, Parikhitdutta, and Min.

We even marry them now and then —
They shall not this time be murdered.

“You will not touch them,
Our brothers, our friends;
This once the bombs won’t fall.
This once the bombs won’t fall.
You politicians and preachers,
You capitalists and bankers all —
This once the bombs won’t fall.”

Yet you know it will ever be a dream
Just a dream, just a mere dream.
It will ever be a dream
If you, if we, keep on dividing,
Never uniting, never joining,
But instead just staying, just keeping,
To my echo chamber or to yours.

So let’s come together
Let’s come together,
Let’s come together.

So let’s come together
Before the nukes fall,
Before the demons fall.
Before we die in the winter,
And we come together
Never once come together at all.

 


Please seriously consider spreading this poem — spreading it to your site, to the social media sites — in an effort to make it go viral. We need it viral well before the next war, we need folks mulling over the idea of rebelling against the violence. Spread this poem and then you too write — write about the ideas presented in the poem. For you, for your brothers and for your sisters, for your children after you — stop the wars of aggression!

Please Note: Matthias has responded by dedicating his poem, Pooling Strength, to this cause.

Soul Mates, A Song

The sun is shining, the day is grand, I found our Anniversary band, made of pure silver, here in my hand, I’ll mount it on a stand, like the day she placed the gift in my hand, hand in hand we still stand, our feet sharing the warm sands, yes my memories are grand, so let’s strike up the band.

https://wp.me/p6B6QE-1gh

Ivor Steven (c) 2018

“I See The Universe In A Blade Of Grass”

FIFTY YEARS AGO — WE SANG THIS SONG

 

“I See The Universe In A Blade Of Grass” **

I’m exhausted

And wearing paper-thin

I’ve been crying too often

My salty tears

Have dried my skin

Cracked the corners of my eyes

And etched my chin

My retina’s are burning

X-rays through hedges

My troubled bridge is worn

I cannot see the dawn

I sit alone and stare

At this daily glare

From the children over there

Innocent eyes looking sad and bare

Desperate for care

Gasping for free air

 

** These words are taken from a line in Sean Rowe’s song, The Lonely Maze, 2012.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

Dear Friends, A Letter To You

Dear friends

Last night I went out

Enjoyed myself

Good company and plenty of fun

There were some children there

I saw the children laughing

At the foolish antics

Of us silly adults

I arrived back home

After midnight

Then I read in bed

Some of my blog comments

Responses to my recent poems

About “We can help the children”

I was deeply touched

I started crying

Emotions tore at my heartstrings

Tears flooded my soul

Your replies were sincere

And compassionately moving

Dear friends

I thank you

One and all

May our solidarity

“Help the children”

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Tit Bits #13

This is my 13th writing of “Tit Bits”, and coincidently today is Friday 13th. I’m not sure whether this means good luck or bad luck for my post today ??

Our pain is like rain

The pain comes and goes

Heavy and light

He’s got us trumped

There’s more poison

In his venom

The facts are there, for all to see

But all the blind eyes are covered in cotton wool

Their ears are buried in the sand

And toes paddling in their own bullshit quagmire

Now is the time to help

Doing the little things that count

Little step after little step

And in time they become one big stride

I hope these tears of mine

Become the glassy mirrors

Of hope

For the frightened children

They need our love

Love is a life-line

Love feeds a soul

Love revives a heart

Love is the meaning of life

Life is love

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018 

 

A Baby Book, The Four Of Us

Weekly Prompts–  Photo Challenge –   Timeworn                                                                    I’ve found this baby book of my dad’s. The book is nearly 70 years old, given to my parents by my grandmother, my mothers mom, to celebrate the birth of my older brother, Danny

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Above, bottom right, my parents with Danny. 1949.

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Above, my dad’s log of Danny’s first 4 weeks.

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Above, in the left frame, my grandmother, Elizabeth, with Danny, and on the right, my mom, Esther, with Danny.

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Then came Ivor and my little brother, Lawrence.

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And finally mom had a daughter that she always wanted, Myfanwy Glenys, and interestingly dad also logged the birth of Myfanwy’s daughter April.

Oh… This is a later attachment, have been feeling quite nostalgic since I posted this article, and I’m adding this lovely song, I hope you enjoy.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Quote #2, “Together We Can Help”

“Fellow Writers, We Have The Power, We Have A Voice, We Have A Pen, Collectively, We’re Able To Help, Help The Children Of The World, Stop Them Crying For Help.”

Together We Can Help

 

Let us all help

It’s Time

Time to have a say

Voice your feelings

Tell your stories

Use your pen

Speak from your soul

Talk about their little feet

Feel their mammas heartbeat

Give your all

Walk tall

We need to help

Children is my prompt

Lets do the stomp

It’s your call

One and all

Don’t let the children crawl

Save them before they fall

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Come Healing

The lyrics of this song “Come Healing” are so beautifully poignant for all of us who are in the process of healing, and attached here my poem Mango Smoothie, was also about healing.                      https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2018/03/12/mango-smoothie/

Come Healing

O gather up the brokenness
And bring it to me now
The fragrance of those promises
You never dared to vow

The splinters that you carry
The cross you left behind
Come healing of the body
Come healing of the mind

And let the heavens hear it
The penitential hymn
Come healing of the spirit
Come healing of the limb

Behold the gates of mercy
In arbitrary space
And none of us deserving
The cruelty or the grace

O solitude of longing
Where love has been confined
Come healing of the body
Come healing of the mind

O see the darkness yielding
That tore the light apart
Come healing of the reason
Come healing of the heart

O troubled dust concealing
An undivided love
The heart beneath is teaching
To the broken heart above

Let the heavens falter
Let the earth proclaim
Come healing of the altar
Come healing of the name

O longing of the branches
To lift the little bud
O longing of the arteries
To purify the blood

And let the heavens hear it
The penitential hymn
Come healing of the spirit
Come healing of the limb

O let the heavens hear it
The penitential hymn
Come healing of the spirit
Come healing of the limb

My finale stanza from my poem “Mango Smoothie”, the words are all part of my healing process, and I’m now feeling quite comfortable within myself on these days of reflection.

I’m a healer who’s lost

Gravitated by her sorrow

How do I catch a falling arrow

And mend her broken cross

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Freckles And Dark Hair

Weekly Prompts – Your second chance to be creative

This weeks word prompt, Hybrid

 

I’m of mixed origin

Am I a hybrid

An off-spring of my parents

Dad was a red-head with freckles

From Tasmania, a convicts great-grandson

Mum had dark hair and olive skin

A German and Scottish background

She was born in Penang Malaysia

They were worlds apart

The great war shaped their paths

Time and peace brought them together

I’m their hybrid, freckles and dark hair

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018