Tuesday, 22. July 2008, 06:27:29
hawks, warmongers, damage, politics as usual
...
in spite of everyone's hopes obama is just another hawk. we are not defending our country. we are attacking other countries.
the more agendas involved, the further from the truth we stray.
there's no conscience in war. it's so easy to dismiss the damage.
what do we have to choose from. a doddering ex-prisoner-of-war or a 'people's choice' for the sake of 'change' (when did a man ever engineer a 'change'?).
i painted this when i was 15. i call it 'progress', or protest. war is mechanical, manmade scourge. (like nature doesn't present enough debacles to humble us.)

do no harm. what if that armless child were your son?
Monday, 14. April 2008, 05:39:28
conscience, happiness, politics, war
...
our world has come a long way.
i would just like to hear a voice in appreciation of the compassionate efforts of so many undaunted men and women, through time, who devoted their lives to the future good and who have brought some of us out of pestilence and disorder.
we are still plagued by the seeming inevitability of a madness that possesses the body politic and it's loyal adherents to engage in a periodic slaughter of humanity indiscrimitately ; and for specious reasons.
if we were all to raise a cry of "mercy"; a prayer for the conscience of mankind to root itself in each and every mind. we might stop this grievous error of war for all time.
then we could pursue more life-enhancing activities and find a way to care for and feed and clothe and house the whole of humankind in a dignified and meaningful fashion. every way of life could be allowed, so long as each individual's pursuit of their own happiness be lawful and not extreme.
there is no higher order i can think of than that we think and work together to eradicate ignorance, bigotry and self-serving self-protective deceit. and most of all we must get over our present universal scourge of greed.
that's just my opinion.
Tuesday, 21. February 2006, 22:29:52
war, poetry, drawing, dedication
today is my youngest son's birthday... ryan you were almost going to experience the horror of war. so i wrote this poem so you could 'see' what you missed.

a soldier's lament
in war the dead are handsome
the living are grotesque
the dying view angels through shielded eyes
the wonderment of excellent joy.
why pity the living in their nightmare lives
are they not free to choose the means of their demise?
what? are they frozen in their lies
of religions and countries and honor and glory
and fame and the whole festering pile of corpsed words.
their own eyes eaten with envy
their own hearts curdled with greed
their own minds pestered by jealousy
all soldiers lament the stinking field
of cold blood and scorched skin.
and the handsome dead.
"now that i know, i'm sorry.
i meant to gain strength by killing 'the enemy'
and all i have is regret
and the fear of god and utter confusion."

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