Read introduction

I am sick of war. This poem was a response to the ongoing militarization of our planet and the poisoned minds that perpetuate it.


Greenmanbestby Ashaquila04 Jun 2014

“the voice of one crying in the wilderness”

How many civilizations will rise n fall
Their leaders crying: “this is the way, I am the truth”
while their soldiers butcher the innocents
n their priests chain the dreamers,
break them on the wheel, the rack, roast them,
excommunicate them, grind them down.

How many slaves will labor n sweat to raise up temples of hubris
Only to fall in tangled heaps in earthquake, famine, flood, pestilence?
How many monoliths, obelisks, cyclopean portraits of kings and gods stare
mutely back at us, we who no longer perceive them as the king emperors of their
chosen civilizations.
And the sweat drenched, whip lashed limbse that raised them up now lie
in the dust as mute witnesses to tyranny n lies.

In desert n jungle giant stones, the language of slavery, the phrases of domination
leer through the centuries repeating the same old question: “When, humanity, will
you awaken?
Cast off the yolk of these usurpers n tyrants who hunt your children for sport,
rape your women for pleasure n steal your food, your wealth, your dreams,
while shoving down your throats a counterfeit reality of their devising,
sustained by your acquiescence.

How many ruined palaces must the dust n creepers be cleared from,
how many ruined cities must be discovered beneath the waves and dunes
before you recognize how many time they have given you
a receipt for deceit, corralling you into cities
n tightening the collar around your neck?

The warriors die for their pleasure – illusory justifications of race n religion.
They cut out your hearts on the temple steps n would have you believe
in divinity n sacrament.
They torture you in dank cells n tell you your security depends on it.
They feed you poison n call it manna, tell you lies n call it truth,
send you to war n call it valor, steal your riches n call it fiscal austerity.
And chuckle all the way to the bank.

Moloch, Satan, liar with a thousand faces, lying in a thousand languages,
pouring salt upon the wound while they gnaw the flesh from your bones,
strip the gems from your earth, and slaughter the innocents, the trees
n creatures while telling you it is all for your own good, for a better life,
a better wife, a sexier body, a secure retirement.

And your creativity n dignity choke in the dust
or turn to cancer in the places where your trapped potential
gnaws at your sould.

You were born in infinity to dance with creativity,
in the freedom of the Higher Way. Why do you sniffle for fungi
in the darkness of the earth when you could soar with the eagles
amongst the clouds of peace?

Race of slaves, bred to mediocrity, lied to from the beginning of time
by a thousand demi-gods for whom power is the drug,
lucre the blood n sex the wedge that drives the slave-warriors
into the blood-drenched sty.

Stop listening to the lie.
Stop sending your sons to die.
Stop wallowing in the sty.

Ancient stones cry out for justice. Every ruined fortress n
crumbling city betrays the hubris of the whip wielding fist,
the ruler on the throne, the liar who calls the shots.

O, my people awaken!
Cast off the chains that choke your children.
Mothers, sons, wives, daughters, fathers, husbands,
Husband this earth of ours.
Do not go down into that dark staircase they are driving you towards.
Reclaim your truth, your freedom to choose.

Bands of brothers, circles of sisters,
Return to the place where the stars shine upon the healing waters.
Return their receipt for lies n
Charge the new vision with your power.
The hour is upon us.
The lies are exposed – a thousand civilizations have risen
n fallen n the oppressors still shepherd us on to worship at
altars of their devising.

Their wings are broken, they cannot fly;
Their truth is war, rape n poison
- ours an orchard with a river running through.

Aug 19, 2011 ashaquila