rules of engagement…

so soon
we march
into battle
to protect
our
interest
or
those
oppressed
who
guard
our
interest
but
when
the skin
of a child
adheres
to their bones
or
their flesh
is torn away
by shrapnel
we
have
no
interest

hidden book of kali…

beneath
the volcanic rubble
a scroll
was found
words
from kali
great mother
goddess of war
saying
men
go forth
into battle
with such anger
that they
are
unable to see
the light
of truth
thus
they
should be
first in line
in battle
pawns
in a game
of chess
played
until the real
battle
begins
when
souls
must
touch
the hem
of
tomorrow
against
satan’s
armies

without forethought of malice…

had they
known
how
leaders
had lied
to bolster
the profit
margins
of
international
corporations
would they
have gone
into battle
under the banner
of halliburton
or
any anonymous
mercenary
swearing
the cause
is
freedom
freedom indeed
to
fight
and
die for
the rights
of an armani suit
clad businessman
to
have
a grey goose martini
served
in a crystal glass
with
the
mandatory
imported olive

dark passages 2:2…

at the beginning
of the great war
between the souls
of heaven and earth
a powerful senator
was sore afraid
fearing the loss
of his riches
and life
so did order
his servants
to fill a large water urn
with his riches
and then to seal
him within
to conceal
and
evade the battle
as the battle raged
the faithful servants
were killed
leaving him
alone
so he prayed
and wept
for many days
and
thus drowned
in his own
tears
of fear

the tattoo…

it started
just below her ear
and coursed down
her neck
covering parts of her breast
winding like a politician’s words
to  her back
vining down her leg
it was there
for all to see
it protected her
from her own teachings
of love thy neighbor
she was willing to die
for those who shared
the same tattoo
but those
whose markings
were different
were to be
guarded against
kept away
shunned
and shown
                                                           no mercy
                                                            in battle
                                                           that they had children
                                                             and husbands
                                                              lying dead
                                                              in the rubble of life
                                                               was not her concern
                                                                for they did not have
                                                               the tattoo of  god
                                                           as
                                                            she saw
                                                            god

sacrifice of the wicked….

 

A Classic Art Challenge:  Here we are at the final round of another poetry challenge between my good friend  Jade and myself. This time, the writing has been prompted by five paintings, ranging from classical to modernist. We hope you have enjoyed this as much as we have!

Today’s painting is:  The Sacrifice of Isaac by Caravaggio

who is this god
of yours
that continues
to ask
that our youth
be sent into battle
as if
merely casting
sand into the eyes of death
is your god
so weak
that the strength
of mortal men
is needed to defend
his heavenly fortress
is this sacrifice
for a god
or men
men who have made
a god
in their
own image

a winter’s wind…

 

by River Urke and Charles Wm. Martin

these things you hold so dear
cradled in your hands
as if a delicate bloom
are mere shadows of your past
you long to hold as it was
cradling a memory
framed in yesterday
unwilling to set him free
but he is not yours to hold
he belongs to a winter’s wind
flowing through these barren trees
like his fingers once in your long hair
combing the woven threads of knowledge
the tangled web of life’s intrinsic collective
delicately kissing a union of unattainable love
knowing he has to walk the paths not taken
your ache bears the weight of drowned tears
tears flowing from a thousand souls
abandoned by the gods of peace
and so each warrior must leave this place
and those he loves for one last futile battle
a battle of man against the natural world
a ludicrous yet crucial clash of power
he stands not with men ~horrified by
the hundreds of years of rap and pillage
leaving the earth a barren tract of sand
sand moving in the hour-glass of history
through this narrow passage way of fate
to where his death will be found
the mere moment you know, stabbed
your heart bleeds for you and your unborn
a wail of agony escapes through silent cries
the loss of your beloved, her father
the time is here to set him free
his soul flies with a winters wind

Once again River Urke and I have entered into a duel poetry challenge and this is the resulting poem.  Duel Poetry:  a prearranged poetry writing challenge  between two people to evolve a new poem where each writer must respond to the other writer’s lines  (4 -5 ) until both parties agree that the poem is complete.

armageddon…

dawning of the new day
let the battle drums
proclaim this day
that hope shall not be denied
today in the armor of truth
hope shall stand
before the gates of hell
and deny death
its rewards for deception
standing as a man
who will not bow before
the arrogance of inhumanity
nor bleed tears of despair
hope shall march into
the spiritual realm of evil
and free the tortured souls
lingering with self-doubt
on their crosses of fear
it shall raise its banner of faith
high in the air
regaining all that was lost
to spirits of greed
and hate
letting no man
nor beast
stand in its way
for this day
victory
will not be
a dream

This poem represents my second response to  the third challenge series between Jade and I.  This challenge is somewhat different in that the prompt is now an audio prompt.  Each poet provides the other with five instrumental songs (so that the song’s words do not interefere with the poet’s) from which the poet is to write a poem.  Jade has written her first response which can be found here. 

obituary …

Image from asiancorrespondent.com

don quixote
a retired country gentleman
a soldier for truth and justice
died this year
while fighting windmill-dreams
he was assigned to a company
of dreamers
believing that mankind could be saved
but somewhere along the line
lost his shield of faith
and so was easily forced into his grave
by insurgent corporate prostitutes
governmental goat herders
and one-way thinking priests
long before the battle had ended
his heart gave way
and could not heal
from the debt of hopes unfulfilled
and scorn of his past lovers
who promised undying love
but merely gave lethal support
quickly reaching for his purse
upon his death
finding only a daydreamer’s lint
in his ragged pockets
and so they cursed his name
as if he were the villain
not them
but that is the course of life
and history
good is met with evil
and evil
notifies the next of kin