To the victor go the spoils,
The diamonds and the oils,
The right to raise a flag above
A world that’s not their own.
To the losers, the defeated,
Goes an anger ever-heated,
Simmering for generations
Within each descendant’s bone.
To the watchers, the supporters,
Pulling strings and giving orders
Goes a power of oppression
And, with it, endless pain.
To the peaceful, to the no one,
Goes the best life in the long run,
Remembered in the darkness
Which always will remain.
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The waves were crashing on the shore;
It was a lovely sight.
The fireflies caroused with me
Amidst the starry night.
The sand, still warm with faded sun,
Was soft beneath my feet.
Then my house was firebombed
By the US Pacific Fleet.
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Today we thank the eager few
Who gave their lives for me and you,
Who walked through fire, blood, and steel
Knowing well how it would feel,
Enduring all put in their path,
Both human fear and nature’s wrath.
They kept their word and walked the walk
‘Cause politicians wouldn’t talk.
Tomorrow we will thank the few,
Among their number maybe you,
Who stood their ground and bravely said
“We do not want our children dead.”
“We do not need what others own.
We welcome strangers to our home.
The cause of each and every war
Are those in whom our power we store.”
Today remember soldiers late
So those to come won’t share their fate.
There’ll be no “Those who came before”
When humankind says “no” to war.
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Amid a thousand oceans
Each a million miles wide,
In a world of fire and darkness
Wherein countless billions died,
A world of steel and angels
Where dragons fill the sky
There lives alone amidst the trees
One totally normal guy.
And as the forests rise into
The universe above
And about him rages endless war,
Between hatred and love,
Surrounded by heroic few
Defenders of what’s right
He lies back on his sofa bed
And tells himself “Good night.”
Saints are slain and martyrs made,
The underworld calls those
Whom destiny has newly bade
To be those whom death chose
Mountains crumble feebly
And utopias collide
And that single lonely sofa man
Just mumbles, “Hey, I tried.”
And though he never earned a place
Among the Gods or Lords of Deep
He ate a balanced diet
And always got a good night’s sleep.
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Imagine a world
With doubt, fear, or hate,
Where all have a warm bed
And a full dinner plate,
Where soft is the water
And fertile the soil.
Now let’s bomb that place
And steal their oil!
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The wealthy and the powerful
In conflict did divide
To play a game of endless war
In which the commons died
For when egos battle
And at the heart of every war:
The rich, you’ll find, will seldom mind
The dying of the poor.
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You see the victors on parade,
Their smiles of sweet relief.
You hear their proffered words of thanks
For the ending of their grief.
But what they do not realize
Through their newfound lack of pain
Is that to stay victorious
They’ll have to win again.
They’ll have to reface challenges.
They’ll have to reforge swords,
Reconquer their old demons
And rechallenge hated hoards.
They’ll have to suffer all again
And all this not to grow
But just to stay a victor:
And maintain the status quo.
Yes we conquered those we feared
And silenced those we hate,
But should we take such lavish pride
In merely stalemate?
So watch the victors on parade
But envy them do not!
You would not wish on anyone
The pain the victors brought
Nor would you wisely wish to feel
Their pride in wielding well
The arms and armor of the war
That merged the Earth and Hell.
One day we’ll see no victory,
No men will march with pride.
We will erect no monuments
For those who bravely died.
We’ll stand without a trophy
And we’ll not conceal our grins
For all will be the victors
Come the day when no one wins.
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We’ve walked among some Autumn glades
Just us and the wind from the helicopter blades.
Falling gently to the ground
Are a leaf and some limbs and an M16 round.
A quaint little creek
Glitters bright mountain green
And, despite all our blood,
Is still cool fresh and clean.
We came here to camp,
Found these meadows to walk,
Because some old men
Wouldn’t sit down and talk,
But we can take solace
And our hearts can still sing
All thanks to the peace
That our murder will bring.
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A while ago
There was a guy
Who dreamed of being
A fiery eye.
We don’t know why
He felt the need,
But we know that
He did succeed.
The problem with
Old fire-eye’s plot
Is that what he wanted
Others did not,
And so he hid
His power away
So after his death
He’d still be okay.
He put that power
In a magical ring
That got stolen by
A greedy king,
And that repeated
Several times
Through fire and snow
And temperate climes.
Then one day
Some fishing midgets
Found that ring
And asked “what ij it?”
One said “mine!”
The other said “no!”
And so the midgets
Came to blows.
The winning midget
Became a beast
Who hid in a cave
Eating Fancy Feast
Until more midgets
Came along,
Stole the ring,
And sang a song.
A few years later
There was peace
And the ring’s new owner’s
Male niece
Got the ring
As a birthday gift,
Met some elves,
And got a lift
To Rivendell
Where it was decided
Fire-eye’s ego
Had the land divided
And that the only
Thing to do
Was to break the ring
Of you-know-who.
The elves said that
The ring must be laid
In the Mordorian lava
In which it was made.
The dwarf said
“That’s a lot of work,”
Hit the ring with his axe
And looked like a jerk.
So midgets and co.
Went on a quest,
They got betrayed
And left the rest,
Wandered alone
To the volcano of doom
Where the trolls and orcs
Drummed “boom, boom, boom.”
While they did
The men, dwarves, and elves
Fought three hours of orc wars
All by themselves,
Had a romantic subplot
With the long-lost human heir
And the elven princess
With the CGI hair.
By now midgets passed fire-eye’s
Most fiery gazes
Then the ring-bearing midget
Had just one of his dazes,
Turned to his friend,
Said “No Sam! The ring’s mine,”
Then dumbass lost his finger
And it all turned out fine.
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Bring thy swords and don thy mail.
Ensure your steed is fed.
We’ll ride before the morning
And may never go to bed.
Bestill the fear within your hearts
Though the menace so approacheth.
If thou disobey these things
Then thou we will reproacheth.
Our phalanx must stand in unity.
Our legion must conglomerate.
Your questioning, if it should show,
Brings nothing but drama ‘r hate.
We ride! We ride to battle!
To death and glorious war!
And it doesn’t help morale if you
Keep asking “but what for?”
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