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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:14:13 GMT -5
This is all my poetic works of a political persuasion. Here goes.
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:14:25 GMT -5
Soldiers Experiences Not Fit for Fox News The first day in combat, First day in hell, I killed another person, And a part of myself. I was praying to find the weapons, I wanted a reason for this. Something to let me know, That what I saw had a cause. All the nights when I would hold my head in shame, I’m losing myself, I’m torn up inside. Ever ripped a dog tag……out of a soldier’s chest? Ever have sleepless nights…because mortars are exploding all around you? Ever seen a market place on fire…in the middle of the flames? Ever see a dog walking…with a child’s arm in its mouth? You’re blinded by the right so you can’t see, All the horrible sites that I’m forced to view, You’re deafened from Rush Limbaugh, Who won’t let you hear the cries…<br>That I hear every night. Around seven or eight operations I do when dusk sets in, Do you know what it’s like to…<br>Hear a man screaming to Allah…<br>Praying to bring back his kid? Be the last face that these people will see? To see women needing surgery…<br>From being beaten and raped to within an inch of their lives? To see children rushed in by their parents…<br>Because a cluster bomb blew off their arms? You disarmed the Iraqis Mr. Bush, Take a look at this kid! So every night at the base, I hang my head and cry. Thinking about what I’ve done and seen, And praying for forgiveness, I want to take it back, This bad dream that I don’t awaken from. I wish I never killed those simple walkers-by, I’m marching on like ordered, But so is my guilt. That I didn’t have to have, If my Commander and Chief didn’t lie. I wouldn’t have to have my family glued to the TV, I wouldn’t see my friends leaving…<br>This mortal coil at the sound of a gun. And can you believe it, he says he respects veterans, I hear them all saying it, But I don’t see them fighting. I don’t see their children in the fields, In the sands with a rifle in this blazing heat. To see their children bleed like me, Fight like me, Grieve like me, Die like me. You say you respect us? You must be ignoring my voice, Or avoiding my stare. Do you really have a clue? Or do you just not care? You want to respect me? Then bring me back home! You want to respect veterans? Then don’t make another generation of them. So here I am in a street in Baghdad, My friends are falling dead and bullets flying past. I turn around and flee and get one in my gut. I’m screaming out in pain, I’m starting to see stars, I’m starting to see darkness, I’m starting to smell smoke, Choking my lungs, Somebody help me! Somebody help me! Is anybody there? I’m too young to die, I don’t want that flag…<br>Draping the coffin containing my ashes. I’m being dragged out, But pulled by my arms, I still want to see my family, Please don’t let this happen to me. They get me on a table, But now it’s too late, My pulse isn’t beating, My chest isn’t moving, My eyes aren’t blinking, But the news camera…<br>Turns to film something else. I’m being sent back to my family, In the neat draping that I always feared, All these sites, these sounds, and horrible deeds. 1,000 other soldiers are dead, Dead just like me. My mother is crying, she’s buried her kid, More will meet my fate, And for what? ~ Aaron Graf Author's Comments: This is my first anti-war poem that doesn't rhyme. This was based on what my step brother [although he's still alive] went through in Iraq. And yes most of those things, for instance the dog with somebody's arm in it's mouth was one of many things he saw there. And those of you who are against the war you should give him a round of applause for his courage, Donald Rumsfeld visited the 101st Airborne Division and the sergeant or whoever told them all to stand up and applaud, he refused to stand. So the sergeant told him to stand up and he stood up but he did not clap. So yeah should say one thing, Chris absolutely hates Bush now that he's seen the truth up close and personal. I want to give him a thanks, most of what he went through was responsible for me having this kind of knowledge outside of just picketing. liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1098440864 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:15:55 GMT -5
Your Tax Dollars at Work The bombs and the planes, the tanks and the rockets, The rubble and the mayhem come out of your pockets. Your friends and family fall dead on the ground, For weapons of mass destruction yet to be found. You paid for this war, don’t you feel screwed? There is no refund, impeachment will do. 2,000 bucks a month to die in GI gear, While a Halliburton contractor makes $174,000 dollars a year. $75 dollars a month, docked off imminent danger pay, Another $150 monthly separation allowance just taken away. We could have hired millions of teachers in all of the schools, Instead we’re hiring soldiers to construct death pools. For a war without evidence we give our last dime, With the amount spent we could end world hunger for 5 years time. Instead of this decision that turns out quite rash You could have funded a cure for AIDS with all of that cash. We could have built schools, instead we build artillery. We could have jobs, but we’d rather play our fantasies. Hail to the nation’s leader, the commander-in-thief. Who can cause the strongest man to rip his hair in grief. Fox reports just one side, Because they distort, thousands died. The media belongs to just a few, Who wants to report when you profit from right wing views? Those who lead us to die get a nice tax cut, Those who fall for their lies might lose their guts. “Trust our president,” is what you’re forced to hear, You know the same thing was stated by Britney Spears? I wish that the public could see that they’re being deceived, But if a lie gets repeated it’s eventually believed. The artist was Bush, his color was red, Painting a portrait of terror, everything was dead. Monsters in disguise, In the White House they lurk. Death for his lies, Your tax dollars at work. ~Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1098165804 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:18:34 GMT -5
I’m a Soldier, the Unsung Song I’m a soldier, Dressed and trained to kill. I storm the beach and seize the hill I’m a soldier, I suffer endlessly for someone else’s dreams, I lose my life for false patriotic themes I’m a soldier, I’m taught to fly a plane and use a knife, They tell me not to feel sad when I take somebody’s life. I’m a soldier, I was sent into war by the Bush administration, My suffrage is ignored on Clear Channel stations. I’m a soldier, I wake up from nightmares every night, After such a short sleep I might die in a fight. I’m a soldier, For writing against this it’s considered obscene, Haunted by the atrocities I do and the horrors I’ve seen. I’m a soldier, I was following orders for a man claiming to honor me, Who gave us thanksgiving dinner with a plastic turkey. I’m a soldier, From the hell I see, my mind is deeply hurt, I’m adored in my uniform, ignored lying in the dirt. I’m a soldier, Whose dirty deeds are still undone, I’m a soldier, And this is my unsung song. ~Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1098165891 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:19:18 GMT -5
Bring It On Mr. Bush He said “bring them on” after 8 troops die, Soon even more of us drop like flies, It’s the liberal media brainwashing Bush’s friends insist The real liberal media? That doesn’t exist. Iraqis taken from their homes, By this modern-day version of Rome. Held in prisons to be mistreated sexually, Or in a tent approaching 122 degrees. We started a war that has no finish, Our dignity these days, starts to diminish. Halliburton contractors making 174 grand, While the soldiers who protect them fall dead in the sand. Now it’s still bring them on when 800 troops die, 800 American ghosts for George W’s lie. The freedom you fight for is the freedom to be dead, And “Iraqi liberation”, that’s all in your head. Bring on the weapons, bring on the ties, Bring on the evidence that you also hide. Bring on the end to this blood and gore, And bring on the proof for this pointless war. ~ Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1093212083 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:23:20 GMT -5
1,000 Ghost Soldiers The count is now 1,000 on the death toll, 1,000 dreams are lost, 1,000 lost for a single greedy goal. The thousandth winner of the contest, you get a free ride home. On a plane in a box but making your journey all alone. 1,000 men and women have now disappeared from the earth, Ashes of 1,000 Americans have now been dispersed. 1,000 sermons so far for loved ones who died, 1,000 fallen warriors for a “President” who lied. Does this make you feel happy? Does it make you feel proud? The country is silent, but the numbers speak loud. 1,000 passed on for Halliburton’s sake, 1,000 men and women have now met their fate. They say bring them on, but I don’t see their children fight, They think they can solve their problems with military might. But standing up to their actions seems to go wrong, Except we’ve given our silence for one year too long. For billions too much of our tax-payer dollars, For 1,000 too many of our soldiers regarded as simple squalor. Our name has been tarnished, our country has been scarred, 1,000 deaths is our penalty, and that’s only just so far. 1,000 spirits flying and soon 1,000 more, 1,000 families grieving in a single year. Can we afford to give Bush another four? ~ Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1094718903 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:25:28 GMT -5
21 Gun Salute The car stopped by on a sunny afternoon, A major pulled out to say “Miss, your son died 5 days too soon.”<br>The mother fell down and racked tears of grief, Him dying so short of his leave was beyond their belief. The funeral was arranged the very next week, At a quiet graveyard right by a creek. The preacher spoke his speech and wished him best, His wife was crying, screaming, and holding his picture to her chest. His children were asking “Will daddy come back?”<br>His brother said “It should have been me who died in Iraq.”<br>He figured he’d pay the bills and perform a great deed, But he died in the sands while fighting for a few men’s greed. The freedom he thought he fought for was being erased, By this Patriot Act and it’s presidential disgrace. The flag decorating his coffin as the band plays and troops raise their guns, Look at his grave, he’s an “Army of One”. The trumpets blaze loudly next to the thumping of boots, Directly to the ground for the 21 gun salute. With every shot fired the crowd gets more depressed, As tears of grief now drench his wife’s black dress. His father is about to fall down from burying his kid, He gives him a salute for all that he did. His friend from the field showed up as well, With his hand on his coffin wishing he never fell. But the man who never showed was the one who sent him to die, Never set foot at a single funeral of an American GI. Never took responsibility for causing his family to go to tears, Instead he spoke all those lies and thrived off the peoples fear. The taps is playing as he is lowered into the ground, Everybody is gripped in sadness but not making a sound. His children without a father, his wife without a spouse, His father and mother miss his presence that was once in their house. Ten shots echoing into the air, The final reminder of death and despair. ~ Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1093070918 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:25:45 GMT -5
Oasis of Crimson [Lyrics] An oasis been stained crimson by my platoon, Houses are burned and bodies strewn. Choking smoke is all that I can see, The only one alive is me! Living the American fantasies, Only in ways not seen on your TV. Look at me I’m the only one, Left dehydrated in the blazing sun. Doing what my leader said, Surrounded by all those dead. Mothers and fathers and sons and daughters, Husbands and wives and friends were our cannon fodder. [More intense, like you’re screaming out and ready to break down in tears at the same time] Love. Is this love to you? Defense. Is this defense to you? Liberation. Does it look like that? Where the fuck are the weapons at? Lies! Told on CNN! Lies! Told on Fox News! Lies! From the president! Lies! To fit the right wing views! Lies! For Unocal’s Game! Lies! That made an oasis crimson stained! [Calm down a bit] The flag has been misused, Iraqis have been abused. So feast your eyes on the only one! Dying now in the blazing sun. My family’s lonely now, My face is falling slowly in the ground. [Screaming again] Put yourself in my place! Put yourself in my taken life! You who are hiding your face! Put yourself in my taken life! Put yourself in my boots, Put yourself in my clothes. Put yourself out to die, Put yourself in bleak land where no sun shows! With your pulse gone, Your body turns cold! [Simmer down the tone softer and softer until the character finally dies in the sand] Oasis of crimson is what I have found, Pieces of ashes and rubble covering the ground. Oasis of crimson I created for you! Oasis of crimson, just look what I’ll do. Oasis of crimson is all I see, Oasis of crimson consuming me! ~ Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1096232487 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:43:39 GMT -5
The Peace of Mankind’s Grave Though my words will never sear, Through the sturdy metals of hate and fear, The peace of bombs and planes claimed to save, Will soon be the peace of mankind’s grave. I’m awake in a land stuck in a dream it seems, That will die for its false patriotic themes, While love and equality reach their demise, The terror alert level begins to rise. They bring up the towers and Saddam Hussein, While people die for a liar’s game. Though my words will never sear, Through the sturdy metals of hate and fear, The peace of bombs and planes claimed to save, Will soon be the peace of mankind’s grave. The American dream was once the flare, That shined light on the darkness of misery and despair, The flame was carried on for personal gain, So one man could make bombs fall like rain. America was once the sweet drink of the free, Now laced with greed and lies and secrecy. Though my words will never sear, Through the sturdy metals of hate and fear, The peace of bombs and planes claimed to save, Will soon be the peace of mankind’s grave. Death knows no face not to slaughter, The value of human beings has reduced to cannon fodder. Holding her dead loved one she sheds a tear, America’s dignity is now a rotting, empty pier. We never say we were the ones at fault, As love and peace reach an abrupt halt. We forget Saladin’s saying as death hits higher numbers, Abstain from the shedding of blood… for blood that is spilt never slumbers. I see what others refuse to see as people die, I see the greed and lies and tyranny embedded in our leader’s eyes. The eyes that allowed innocent blood to be spilled, As more human beings are tortured, raped, and killed. Come on a plane and leave in a bag, With your coffin draped neatly with the flag. As we kill more men and women overseas, All those deaths create new enemies. It will make more terrorists for us to find, It shall bring the death of humankind. I know you shall revile me and hate me today, There is only one thing to you I must say: Though my words will never sear, Through the sturdy metals of hate and fear, The peace of bombs and planes claimed to save, Will soon be the peace of mankind’s grave. ~Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1093112709 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:45:41 GMT -5
Just Look What You’ve Done! So much he’s destroyed, so little he’s built. Does he feel any shame? Does he feel any guilt? He justifies his lies to those who never lost a limb, What about the Iraqis whose families died? Can he explain it to them? He knows you’ll wave the flag if Clear Channel’s all you’ve heard. He says he’s a “Christian”. Is that the proper word? The bombs are dropped by his “Army of one”. Soldiers and Iraqis are dying. Just look what you’ve done! We search for Saddam’s “weapons” and cannot find a trace. Then you claim that you made the world a much safer place. You claim to be the world’s protectors, But you won’t even listen to UN weapons inspectors. How about you look at an Iraqi in the eye. Was this war really just? Or just a heinous lie? An amazing world that you have under construction, Where freedom is slavery and peace is destruction. You say bring them on, but last I remember you ran. Are you really a president? Are you really a man? You say “Joy and relief”, try living hell. Was it so your dad can sell weapons? Was it for your friend’s oil wells? Can you see the bloodshed? Can you hear the cries? Because all I see is a smirking chimp with beady little eyes. Questions about Halliburton make Cheney curse like a sailor. While Mr. Bush has yet to show us Saddam’s weapons trailers. On a cold desert night there arose such a clatter, An Iraqi mother went to the door to see what was the matter. Soldiers pointed guns at her head and asked for her son. Didn’t tell her what he could be doing, or what he had done. People turned into flames by your bombs and rockets, And young girls with blood pouring from their eye sockets. The ironic part is Reagan sponsored the guy, Rumsfeld even shook his hand while he made Iraqis die. More vacation time than any other president, I hope you had fun. You won’t get a second term. Just look what you’ve done! ~ Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1093114072 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:46:49 GMT -5
The Forgotten Voice of the Iraqi People They’re shooting us here, they’re bombing us there. They’re killing our children, but no one seems to care. I’m an Iraqi, the voice you refuse to hear. I’m an Iraqi, forced to starvation and fear. They show us killing soldiers and committing these crimes, Yet the number of us dead is higher by 23 times. 5 million of us can’t find clean water, We’re not human beings to you, we’re simple cannon fodder I’m an Iraqi, the people you can’t truly face Mr. Bush never helped us, that fucking disgrace One man commits violence, the Iraqi people get the blame, But wouldn’t you do the same if your house burst to flames? Depleted uranium is left all around, It’s in the air and the water, as well as the ground. With a half-life of 4.5 billion years, It brings deformities, cancer, and tears. Holding my own sister, filled up with lead, Is this the freedom you bring us? The freedom to be dead! You say you’re liberating us from one evil man. You say that he had so many evil plans, You said he had WMDs and links to bin Laden Our plea for mercy is now long forgotten. You didn’t even bother to back your fabrications, You didn’t even bother for consent from the United Nations Clusterbombs dropped in tiny neighborhoods More of your soldiers are up to no good. Taking our families without just cause, Bombing our towns just because. I’m an Iraqi, the one you told to hush, While you turn our towns into ashes and our brains into mush. I’m an Iraqi, and this is what I have to say, All I want now is for you to go away. ~ Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1093072932 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:47:48 GMT -5
Flag Draped Coffins A mistempered rifle in his hands, With dead and dying children in the sands. It took this much to lift the blindfold. That covered what he shouldn’t see. He saw the love of many waxing cold, He saw the streets were empty, not a soul was left alive Homes with the roofs missing, a place where fear now thrives. Decaying bodies and rubble drape the mud, And the walls are now red with blood. While at home they wave their flags, He just watched his friend get hit by a frag. At home they say they support him without rest, While he was pulling a dog tag out of a mans chest. After one year 10,000 die. All to fit George Bush’s lie. One letter to a family every day, For a gallon of gas in a Chevrolet. Babies deformed from depleted uranium shells, Crying is acceptable when you’re in hell. If people could see we had no need to fight, Maybe he would be able to sleep at night. Over 10,000 ghosts roam after one year of this war. What makes Bush deserve another four. Tears fill his family’s eyes, Flag draped coffins for a lie. ~Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=downwithbush&action=display&thread=1093071055 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:49:33 GMT -5
Every Six Minutes Nobody believes a word she says, drowning in her shame, Robbed of her dignity by that man, yet she’s the one they blame. Beaten to a pulp and knocked to the ground. He told her nobody would believe her and not to make a sound. She kicked and she cried She said ‘no’, but he never complied. He told her she was a tramp, a vixen, and all the other labels, They cheered while one was gang raped on a pool table. One in ten times they cry do they ever report, One in a hundred ever set face in court. Every six minutes a woman’s shamed by a thug, The only violent crime that you serve less than dealing drugs, Every six minutes a woman’s in pain, It haunts her whether asleep or awake and drives her insane. Every six minutes, one woman’s dignity is lost, Every six minutes, that woman gets her own cross. ~Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=everysixminutes&action=display&thread=1093071615 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:50:54 GMT -5
Since When? Since when was it ever her fault? Since when would she ask for sexual assault? Since when were rapists these all trench-coated strangers? When people the girl knows are 85 percent of the danger. You say that rape isn’t a big crisis, that you don’t need to care. It happens every six minutes. Since when was that rare? Some blame it on pornographic movies and dirty magazines, Some say it’s all because she was a promiscuous teen. They say it’s something spontaneous because he wanted to get in her pants, Even when 90 percent are planned ahead in advance. Blaming the victim won’t put this to an end, You’ve done this for eons, yet rape has turned into a trend. Did you ever bother to comfort the girl that he beat? Does it make you feel safe you let him roam the streets? Since when does investigating what she’s wearing help with the police report? Since when was anything solved showing her panties at court? If we quit bashing the victim, she’ll probably tell, Instead of beating herself up and going through hell. If people won’t protect those who have done wrong, Then every six minutes we won’t hear the same sad song. liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=everysixminutes&action=display&thread=1093071694 |
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Post by Aaron Graf on Nov 8, 2004 5:56:17 GMT -5
Arsenic River A beautiful stream, parading with life, Bringing balance to an unstable land. Unprecedented change will add to this strife, And spoil the soothing tunes of Mother Nature’s band. The unwary animal, forced to slake its thirst In this arsenic river, Things turn out to be the worst. It gets in your tap water, this could also become your liver. The farmer’s crops are kept alive, But now they could get deformed or die, This is a place where many fish thrive, Now loaded with Mercury and Arsenic because we let polluters lie. But you dine off of those fish and your diet consists of those crops, And one man might hunt that thirsty beast, The contamination must stop, Unless you want arsenic to season your feast. You drink that water day after day, You bathe in that water, to feel nice and clean. I guess you just follow the news “reporters” and all that they say, Arsenic river, why is that not obscene? Arsenic river, toxicating the drinks of boys and girls, Arsenic river, consumed by all the people in this great world. Arsenic river, inside the banks of death, Arsenic river, the “news” won’t report it with a sentence, not even a breath. Arsenic river, a “small” problem of American “bliss”, Arsenic river, just drink what you’re given, don’t question me miss. Arsenic river, what should be seen as rank. Arsenic river, overflowing it’s banks. Arsenic river, pouring into your cup, Arsenic river, it’s good for you so drink and shut up. Arsenic river, the profits and riches that you have today, Will be gone tomorrow when it makes you die away. ~ Aaron Graf liberalpoetry.proboards29.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=savethetrees&thread=1093237919 |
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