Anti-War Poetry

Protest in Poetry by Amanda Paweska


THE END
peace
is fleeting
tensions
are rising
The End
will come
bigotry
is breeding
hatred
is heating
The End
will come
revenge
is seeked
restitution
is requested
The End
is coming
arms
are taken
lives
are ended
The End
is here

09/18/01




FORTY-EIGHT HOURS
The news starts
and the tears fall,
those beety little eyes
giving order
over lives of no care.
A great pain and anger
bombards the soul,
a feeling of powerlessness
weights down.
Words and hearts twisted
by that Tyrant of the West,
with that sick mind
and those pulled strings.
The world listens
to his agenda
of mass murder and destitution.
But what means can be taken
against a self appointed god?
The guitars are all silent,
the hipsters have vanished,
their signs laid down,
and singular voices
are too easily ignored.
The news reports
then comes sobs of frustration:
forty-eight hours or
the eve of the end.

03/17/03




WORLD GONE TO HELL
Woke up one morning
in a world gone to hell
(not that I was ever in
Paradise found).
A world where government
crumbles ‘round our feet,
and words of diplomacy
are manipulated and neglected.

Where the sound of bird’s chirping
foretells the squeal of a bomb;
not just the bell tolls now.

Wounded prides begun this;
the international pissing contest,
where innocent lives are stolen
to prove an individual’s manhood.
The resurrection of new evil
from the sand and ashes of oil;
a spill of living scarlet
is of no compare to monetary gain.

Where the rising of the one sun
no longer signals a new day;
the morning stars explode here.

A hissy-fit plays out
across this world stage:
The nations once united, divide
and power of pens weaken.
Agreements are all argued,
the rules of engagement broken;
an objection to Washington
equals the wrath at home.

Where the rains once purified
now bring fire and brimstone;
the sky is falling now.

The unelected leader sleeps
tucked in under pretty words;
the walls shake and crumble
around the middle of the East.
Across the stained waters
comes the shivers and cries;
Westeners huddle and shake
from the air traffic roar.

Where one morning no one wakes
in the world of this hell;
the eve of destruction is here.

03/20/03




NIGHTMARE OF DEATH
The nightmare of death
is no longer the cold embrace
of the reaper’s clasped hand,
but being engulfed
by the shower of man made fire.
Not just haunted by images
between fits of restless sleep,
but the ones flickered over
through living room screens.

The monsters of dreams and fantasy
are easily slayed
- one swift hero’s sword saves.
Though it is the monster of reality
that attacks us now,
and what is done then
when the monsters are men,
with armies blazing behind them?

You reach for that bony hand,
and seek out those folk-lore villains;
praying for the saviour.
You wish to fall deep
in those dreams you know end.
For the nightmare is now;
the realty is death.

03/20/03




THE GODDESS WEEPS
The Goddess weeps.
Her tears falling,
to cover the parched earth,
for the destruction ‘round her.
The Goddess Weeps.
Her heart breaking,
a sound that splits the sky,
for the lives she created destroyed.
The Goddess weeps.
Her spirit reeling,
reflected in nature’s force,
for the global pain.
The Goddess weeps.
Her hopes fleeting,
enough to damn the world,
because of the men ending this one.
The Goddess weeps.
Her cries unheard,
that shake the soul,
over the screech of their bombs.
The Goddess weeps
for the loss of her children and home.
For the loss of us
the Goddess wept.

03/22/03




WAR OF EMOTIONS
Anger, frustration, pain
How do I combat
the television screen?
My grasp does not reach
across the swelling seas,
My voice is not heard
by the ones behind bombs,
My words cannot be read
by dead eyes.
Fear, confusion, grief
How do I influence
the effigies of evil?
My spirit does walk
in picket peace parades,
My name is gracing
international petition lines,
My pen can create
curves of poetic protest.
Fury, depression, hurt
How do we heal
the scars of hate?
Our hearts will mend
with the uniting of souls,
Our lives may return
only by respecting all others,
Our world can continue
by learning from the past.
Hope, love, caution

03/22/03




WHAT CHANGED?
Darker and colder,
where hate and profit
run wars.
Peace becomes
a fleeting goal,
the fantasy
of long haired youth
and disenfranchised citizens.
People becoming slaves
to the States’ will,
zombies lacking
all free thought.
A herd all led
to the slaughter, willingly.
What changed?
Evolution, turned backwards
repeating the past
we learned nothing from.
New generation
divided and isolated,
learning to attack and kill
in righteous rage
from the political bullies, officials;
that white breed religion
sanctions mass murder.
What’s changed?
We are all back
where we started,
crawling in muck
and casting stones.

09/10/04
They call September 10th the day before the world changed…just what changed?




(WHY) KILL OR BE KILLED
How do you justify,
how do you explain,
the pain, the terror
we do to ourselves,
we do to each other.
Nationalism, Patriotism,
striving to be the best –
as did Hitler, Stalin…Bush:
Kill the people, to beat the people.
Each speech
a war cry, a battle cry…
a child cries.
Orphaned and alone,
diseased and dying
because Man wants to be the best.
Only the best
when at our worst.
Kill, or be killed,
no longer a philosophy
but a practice, put into practice since
you have what I want.
Big scale, small scale,
doesn’t matter,
the world stage
is right next door;
the same mantra lies.
Absurdity or it all;
Art of war, Rules of war
blood, guns, gore – death.
Give me freedom, or give me death,
a request easily granted,
even if it’s not
agreed upon.
But greed,
and other deadly sins,
in the name of virtue
practice it, express this,
teach the young that
it’s kill or be killed.
Think, question
all you are told.
How do you understand?
How do you see truth?

12/14/05