It's always, the children with the, shortest END of those STICKS, in the wars between the mommies and daddies or in the wars between, two countries, and the adults in charge still can't see that, because they got their minds, set on, I need to take over you, I need to, kill you, and the children are all, DEAD in the very end, and, there's nothing that can be done about it! Translated…
We are Not Born to, Escape
We are Born to Love, to Rely on One Another, to Enjoy the Foods of Today,
To Expect and Look Forward to the Warmth and Cool of Tomorrow
While the Trees Which Were Planted;
Humans Aren't Born to Slaughter Each Other, Nor Getting Slaughtered by One Another
We are, to Make This Strange Place
Into a Home for All to Share Our Lives in
And Yet
The Nightmares of Yesterday
Today's Waves
Tomorrow, What will Tomorrow, Bring?
The Scent of Diesel
The Rancid Odor of the Seas
The Astringence of Fear
The Salt from the Blood
Ocean is Fate. Swallowing Us in
and this, is what's "up" with children in WAR! Photo from online
Then Spitting Us Back Out
The Ocean is a Burial Ground. Swallowed Us Down
Spat Us Out
The Oceans Disliked the Iron and the Rotted Wood
It'd Hated the Vomit of a Child.
It'd, Swallowed, Again. Finally
Only, Holding in in the Mouth
Swallowed Our Breaths in, Then,
Spat Out of Corpses and, Bones.
The Wind, Soundless, It'd Already Deafened Me with It's Blows
here's a, dead one...no, make that ,TWO! Photo from online
The Soundlessness of the Fog, Fog is, Thicker than Death Itself
The Ships Made No Noise, We Can Only Row the Canoes
To Get Ourselves Close to the Unpredicted, Futures
The Gun Fell, Silent
I Can't Hear My Own Cries, the Cries of Children
I Breathed Out, Silently Now
Those Fearful Eyes
More Scared Than My Companions
Those Twisted Faces
More Distorted Than My Steps to Escape
The Undetonated Bombs, Shot Through My Skies
The Guns without the Firing, Continually Shot
At the Fog that's Already, Dissipated
Netting Everything Together, Again
What Sort of a Language
Can You Understand
Mandarin, Taiwanese, English, Vietnamese?
The Man's Raised Arms into High up in Air?
The Mothers' Cries?
Or the Children's?
Or, Will You, Hear the Echoes
"Please Don't Kill Me!" in
All the Sleepless Nights that Follow You Around from Here on Out
Child, Do Take This Final Moment You Receive
Put Your Feet into the Ocean that You'd Been Told to Stay Away and Out of!
Even if You Kicked Your Mothers' Fallen Bodies
and this is still, going, on, and for what? An IDEOLOGY! Photo from online
You Can't Trip and Fall Down
Do Take Advantage of This, Final Moment
Let Those People See You, Lucidly————
And Then, Maybe, They'll
Put Down Their Guns
Maybe, They Will Catch a Glimpse of
Themselves from Before When They Were
Young Children
My Children
And so, no matter how you work it, it's still, always the CHILDREN who ended up, getting MURDERED by these WARS of the adults, in the smaller spectrums of the singular families, or the bigger realms of the wars in the worlds. And if only, the ADULTS in charge, can see how wars damages the lives of children, then, maybe, they will have that inkling of humanity returned back inside their hearts, and try and find a peaceful way, to resolve their, differences, but they don't, because, the adults are all about, taking what they want, when they want, asking NO permissions, and so, children ARE, destined to get, SACRIFICED, and, we're all, DEAD, because of you, FUCKING (so???), STUPID, ADULTS!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment