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.

Time Travelers

For my readers, followers, friends and all those who doubt my connection to our unidentified Aliens, my “Mothership” landed for a visit today, to check-up on how I was handling the planet earth’s present dilemmas, and I’m afraid I had to report that the situation here is stagnant and quite grim.  

Zap, a gigantic lightening bolt precedes a mystical power surge

Traversing the cobalt skies, like horizontally sleek outriggers

Vividly scoring chords to hang our every word on

Like musical lines, writing out our lost dreams and regrets

 

Sound-waves echoing, poles apart, going north, south, east and west

Conducting iridescent lights over our purple and orange sunset

Vibrating quasars, pulsating from deeply inside, outer-space

Focusing towards the huge magnetic Receiving Dish, signalling “An Arrival”

 

 

Recording a celestial traveler, singing with an angel’s voice

Resonating sweetly, like Handel’s, Messiah Hallelujah Chorus

Translated into our universal language of symphonic sound

Digitally televised for the world’s population to simultaneously view

 

The Super-Sonic Cosmic message to be heard loud and clear

“We’ve returned to your degraded planet earth”

“To again, bestow upon you, Peace And Goodwill”

“Like we’ve done before, Eons of Millenniums ago”

 

Ivor Steven  (c)

Beyond Today There Is Tomorrow

Beyond the broken porthole

I stand on a basin pedestal

I’m going down with the ship

She left the wreck last week

Left my bones in the bathroom

Drowning in the blue lagoon

**********

Last night there was a fire down the street

On the other side of the creek

I heard the commotion in my sleep

The old farmhouse was burnt to the ground

And lingering smoke on the water whispered sounds

Of memories lost and a loyal dachshund

***********

The Alien poet’s brain

Is a fascinating place

A distant surreal view

Hooked, like a fish on a line

Laying tomorrows foundations

On old pieces of used paper

Using dried up ink as mortar

And the sky is the work’s next brick

Remembering yesterdays sunshine

Is today’s dawn and beyond

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Quote #5, And, Quote #6

            “The sound of nature

            the voice of our future

              rings loud and clear

the Symphony of life we need to hear”       

– Ivor Steven

 

                        **********

 

 ” Where there is nature, there is life

       without nature there is no life”             

– Ivor Steven

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

Words, Lost And Found

When your senses are blind

Driving you out of your mind

How do you find that word

Unique and unheard

Lost, gone out of your head

Not there, under your unmade bed

Nor between your untidy sheets

Removed during your midnight heat

You’ve searched along every note-pad line

Flicked through grandpa’s dictionary overtime

The missing word is yet to be found

Your dog stares at you, as if you’re unsound

It’s somewhere, you wrote it down

The word, to be your poem’s crown

Shaking your brain, side to side

Rattle, rattle, adjectives clash inside

Suddenly you remember

It’s something about December

How could you forget

The fallen Refugee reject

Cutting himself on his old sword

Swearing, “restitution”, is the word

Ivor Steven (c) 2018

Across The Hallway

 Sunday morning bliss 

A memory, a wish 

Confirmation, of a promise 

A togetherness kiss 

 

My tears do dwell 

I was under her spell 

There’s no need for show and tell 

You know my heart well 

 

There’s a memory lane 

Within my sighing veins 

Pumping slowly, flowing deep 

A river of dreams that never sleep 

 

Visions of a begone life 

A joyful husband and wife 

The glory days are gone 

Happily, I’ve begun to move on 

And remember with fondness 

Our first, and last kiss 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

A Morning Kiss

Photo Challenge Laundry Day

Yep a photo of my little laundry, untouched, on this sunny Sunday morning, and below, if I had done the washing, is a photo of my clothes line under my Verandah, my laundry day didn’t happen. My Saturday night’s over indulgence has developed into a Sunday morning hangover, and my dirty washing will be still there again on Monday !! Monday often becomes my laundry day……… and also below, a few words I wrote this morning instead of doing the washing, yes, definitely a lot more fun, and far more comforting for this self-inflicted headache of mine…….
A Morning Kiss
Your lips taste of warm honey
Sweetly delicious
Our kiss lusciously melts into one
Firmly moist
We lovingly smile, a honeymoon embrace
Divinely entwined
20180812_112811
And a pleasant Sunday morning song by Nick Cave.
Ivor Steven (c)  2018

The Dark Streets

I’ve been listening to The Waterboys songs lately, their lyrics are meaningful and their music is always dramatic. In this following piece of mine I’ve used 18 of their song Titles as the foundation for my poem. To other Waterboys fans who read this post, I hope my words have done The Waterboys the justice they deserve, by all their glorious songs. For those readers, and me, who are struggling with the italics and too many capital letters, below at the bottom of the post, is an easy reading version.

The combined Trumpets of the world are sounding

Being carried on today’s Lonesome Old Wind

Resonating loudly for The Stolen Child

And Choirs are singing The Faery’s Last Song

 

Where did their promise go, and there’s no Sweet Thing in sight

Will the children get to view The Whole Of The Moon again

When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”

Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”

 

Children crawling Down Through The Dark Streets

Cowering under black clouds and Purple Rain

In A Pagan Place, created by governments

Shamefully they have Let It Happen

 

Our leaders need a wake-up call And A Bang On The Ear

When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”

We Will Not Be Lovers anymore, until

They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”

 

Let us hope the children suffer no Red Army Blues

And need not worry about being Too Close To Heaven

A big thank you to my friend Chris Black of, A way with words. for inspiring me to write another one these poems using song titles, the last one I wrote was on December 2nd 2017.  https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/where-have-all-the-good-times-gone-2/

The Waterboys Lyrics

“Down Through The Dark Streets”

Down by old house
Over the bridge
Down through the dark streets
Where we used to live
Out by the cornfield
And the sycamore trees
Down to the water
Will you come, Lassie please?Snow in the town square
December afternoon
Christmas lights
A crescent moon
A boy selling chestnuts
Roasted and brown
Dropping black cinders
That hiss on the ground
You and I stand like strangers
In our Hokusai clothes
Like we come from some strange country
That nobody else knows
And to go where the wind blows
Are just the words of thieves
So will you come with me, Lassie
Will you come Lassie, please?There’s a place there by the river
I never showed you before
But when I’m far away
That’s where I go
Outside it’s lamplight
High time we leave
Winter-a-borning
Will you come Lassie, please?The big blue sea between us
Is thousands of miles
It’s cruel I know
But you just have to smile
I’d be back for you
If I could just believe
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
Will you come, Lassie, please?

 

The Dark Streets

The combined trumpets of the world are sounding

Being carried on today’s lonesome old wind

Resonating loudly for the stolen child

And Choirs are singing the Faery’s last song

 

Where did their promise go, and there’s no sweet thing in sight

Will the children get to view the whole of the moon again

When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”

Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”

 

Children crawling down through the dark streets

Cowering under black clouds and purple rain

In a pagan place, created by governments

Shamefully they have let it happen

 

Our leaders need a wake-up call and a bang on the ear

When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun

We will not be lovers anymore, until

They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”

 

Let us hope the children suffer no red army blues

And need not worry about being too close to heaven

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018.