Dying young.
Oh God, their young faces
Glowing with an unknown anticipation
On this day of their graduation
Very young and barely shaving
Always be the baby to mom,
This could be the rubber stamp
On their death certificates.
So young, they seem like children to me,
High school learning, books and friends,
To become killing, fields of fire and weapons.
The look of shock of the badly injured, the complete stillness
Of the dead.
What was his mother doing the moment he died?
We continue to send our flower of youth,
To the killing fields.
Sons, cousins and our friends.
God bless the peacemaker, God will call them his children.
poem by Willow Moon Pearce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Old Doubting Thomas
The old doubting Thomas is living today
And most of his school friends long with the dead lay
To the war cry of the leader they took up the gun
And they paid with their young lives for the war to be won
The young doubting Thomas he was young back then
He did not march off to war with the other young men
And though in his honour never a parade
He feels no regret at the choice he had made.
The old doubting Thomas he feels rather sad
That in World war 1 he lost his young dad
To his widowed mother a devoted son
He promised her never to take up a gun.
He still talks of the father he never did know
A war hero almost nine decades ago
The only regret in life he's ever had
Is that he never did know the one who was his dad.
The old doubting Thomas from time looking gray
His grandchildren have school going children today
Many of his school friends died in World War 2
And the dreams that they had were not meant to come true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Killing Fields
Oh the lives that come and go
as the years go by
are taken by the sons of others
on the fields where they die.
Brother against brother
killing one another,
don't we wonder why?
Generation after generation
never seem to learn
that the killing fields are red with blood
as the wheels of life just turn.
The fields of the lands are meant for life
filled with so much joy.
Instead, those fields have fallen quiet
with each and every boy
that became intent on the quest for death
on the killing fields.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Along The War Avenue Of honour
Along the war Avenue of Honour a plaque to a dead soldier nailed to every tree
Brave young men who died in battle their reward for their bravery
They died in the war said to end all wars in the killing fields of World war one
But many wars since and far too many bloody battles and peace in the World not yet won.
Wars started by silly ageing men who send the young for them to die
Ageing men who themselves will die of old age and their twilight years they will enjoy,
ageing males heroes of their people we honour cowards as heroes one might say
The young men will go to war for them and the young men with their young lives pay.
The war supposed to end all wars long over almost nine decades since have gone by
But many wars have been fought since then and war pilots dropp their big bombs from the night sky
But suppose that's what will always happen when we give all of our power away
To silly and ageing male war men who with hair dyes cover their gray.
Along the war avenue of honour long dead soldiers names on every tree
Young noble men who died in battle far from homeland and family
In what was to be the war to end all wars yet we don't have much wisdom to show
For the loss of so many fine young men well over eight decades ago.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Alimony
(r. l. jones/w. young/r. higginbotham)
(c) - (f) - (g)
(c) look at this one, look at that one
Tell me do they look like me
All my (f) friends said, dont you worry
Said theyll testify for (c) me
Well, I (g) wonder which of (f) my friends had it in for (c) me
Alimony, alimony, alimony is killing me
I dont (f) want six extra children
When aint but two that look like (c) me
Please, have (g) mercy, judge your (f)honor
Alimony is killing (c) me
Please, have mercy, judge your honor
Im as poor as I can be
Aint had money in my pockets
Since way back in fifty three
Cant you cut down all my payment ?
Alimony is killing me
Alimony, alimony, alimony is killing me
Alimony, alimony, alimony is killing me
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stop The Killing!
he killed Trayvon
with a bullet to the chest.
stone cold murder!
much as we've killed...
Vietnamese children,
South American children,
the children of Iraq,
and Afghanistan...
Japanese children,
Native American children,
and probably next
the children of Iran!
as Dylan mocks:
'with god on our side'...
whose god?
what type of morality
justifies killing children?
we might just as well
be killing our own children!
and in a sense we are!
Trayvon demands justice...
so do the ghosts of all the children...
their faces ingrained in the curse
on our souls, on our land!
stop the killing!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Young Man
Written by james young
Lead vocals by james young
People say with age there comes experience
But as soon as you are born you start to die
Older men are chosen to speak wisely
But call the child to the sacrificial rite
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
The fire bombs in distant lands are burning
Jarring every synapse in your soul
Life and death are a meaningless profession
Tomorrow brings a horror yet untold
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
Young man!
Young man!
Come home my son
We'll give you a rest
Welcome my son
We'll give you the best
Time's stowaway
The young man
Short are the days
Of the young man
Young man!
Young man!
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blessed Are The Peacemakers Terminated!
If war is a million dollars
a minute industry?
Or a billion dollars!
Then vested productive
effort those producing
weapons of profit war
weapons of mass destruction
finance target budget a policy
maintaining profit established...
Bloody Status Quo!
This tradition conservative
policy
kill the enemy peacemaker
let the peacemaker
inherit the earth
all six foot of earth.
Is merely good business sense!
But would you really
want to kill
Osama Bin Laden?
Ah there is the rub
rub out peacemaker
profit threatening peacemaker!
But kill Osama Bin Laden?
No! Put a huge advert bounty
on his head but do not kill him dead!
My God! No! That would be bad for business!
Osama Bin Laden! The man’s inspirational!
He’s so good so good for sales killing business!
Man is a killing weapons selling phenomena!
The most wanted man on the planet?
This is a powerful catchy him not slogan!
This is sensational weapons salesmanship hype!
Is he really wanted?
A 25 million dollar pay out
for legendary dead or alive!
Is extremely bad investment... in promotion killing business!
We cannot be having real death of top gun!
Death of a Salesman weapons selling phenomena!
Agencies assist escape of top terrorist selling profit gun gun gun!
Terminate peacemakers!
John F. Kennedy!
Malcolm X!
Martin Luther King!
Enemies of State
Orchestrated; Profit
Producing Vietnam War!
War incited in Vietnam Laos Cambodia!
Keep rolling red dice dealing death death death of innocents!
Profit Profit Profit for Masters Making! Creating New International Wars!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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As many know, and especially those who may have young sons or daughters at colleges or universities, the last thing you want to hear is a call that perhaps one of your children was injured or, even worse, lost their life in a tragic fire at a dorm or campus housing.
quote by Vito Fossella
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young mother!
When the mother is left with young children,
The hands are full and the mind is not dull,
Her eyes are down on the children, who rattle,
Not on the spouse, who suddenly stops to tattle,
Young mother is as busy as a bee, flying around,
The messy house to have the neat hive and honey,
She is not a queen bee to order the servants,
She is a human and needs help and love,
Helpless responsible young mothers are great,
For they have sacrificed their comfort for their brood,
So many professionals gave up their career,
For the love that they have upon their future,
Young mothers of the world, just relax and not to cry,
So much work day in and day out, but you are the Gods,
To provide what your young children need,
To cover them with comfort of loving blanket,
To protect them from all invisible germs and harms,
To plant the seeds of care in their mind to bloom,
Disciplined children are the outcome of your salty sweat,
Continue to sacrifice as our ancestors did.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A War Raging On
There's a war raging on
Though I know not where
There are people fighting
Though they do not care
Soldiers are fighting
Mothers are crying
Fathers are preaching
For their sons are dying,
For their is a war killing
And no one really cares.
There's bullets shooting
As I see the guns loading
And there's planes flying
For I feel the bombs exploding,
I see war and I see blood
And death upon the sand
There's hunger and death
I still see in His hand,
For there's people killing
As I see the blood flowing.
There's soldiers marching
For I hear them coming
The killing is flowing
For I see the children running,
There are people being shot
Poets getting caught
Murderers being sought
Lessons again being taught,
For there is a war raging
As the soldiers are hunting.
There is a war coming
For I hear the horns blowing
There is more killing coming
For I see the hate growing,
Children are getting killed
Burying bombs in the fields
Land is being destroyed
Mountains are becoming hills,
For there is a war coming
For I see the hate showing.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Killers All?
Now bugle boy what do you blow
Your trumpet pressed to your dead lips
I sound recall to let them know
this is the end of their hardships
They came as boys but died like men
From factories farms and mean back streets
They will not see their homes again
The brave young men whom death defeats.
They answered to their country’s call
And donned their Khaki battle dress
And shipped to France where they would fall
by thousands in the wilderness.
Created by the shot and shell
turning the battlefield to mud.
Which drowned young soldiers where they fell
and drenched the earth with their hearts blood.
Now poppies blow in Flanders fields’
The soil enriched by dead men bones
which has increased the harvest yields.
The poppies act as their headstones.
So many died and were not found
their fate unknown, No man could say
Their bodies melded with the ground
but we remember still to day.
The slaughter and the sacrifice
The useless waste of human lives.
They were prepared to pay the price.
Though a small band of them survives.
Each passing year their numbers fall
Old age more sure than shot and shell.
Soon there will be none at all
who endured that living hell.
The war to end all wars they said
You will be home by Christmas tide
Instead of that most would be dead.
Involuntary suicide.
We honour those who bravely died
a generation of young men.
The best of breed on either side.
But still we go to war again.
The world has never been at peace
since the war to end all wars.
I don’t believe that wars will cease
as long as there are warriors.
Who think they can enforce their will
on other men by force of arms.
It seems that killing is a skill
Which can seduce men with its charms.
16-May-08
http: //blog.myspace.com./poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Returning Home
In the smoke I smell
Dead animals,
Dead neighbors, friends, and family members.
In the mist I see
All those who were once alive.
Behind me
Our town stands
Burned down to ashes;
Only skeletons remain.
This war has taken away so much.
In the rubble on the streets
I see
The way things once were.
Happy homes
Filled with laughter
Children playing
Stickball in the street.
Now
So much has been taken
Away from me.
We find bodies
In the yards, in the wells,
In our fields and on the streets;
Dead animals,
Dead neighbors, friends, and family members.
The war is over
And we are back.
To bury the dead,
To give hope to the young,
To start again.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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What a World
What kind of world is this
This world I call my own
Were even a young child
Is afraid of going home
A world in which a man
Will take innocence from a child
Now their lives are lived in fear
The memories going wild
What kind of world is this
This world I call my own
Where you'll only be accepted
If your a f***ing clone
A world so full of s***
A world so full of lies
Can you spot the liars?
Can you see it in their eyes?
A world where self expression
Is pushed and made to fall
Despised and destroyed
To boost the egos of them all
A world where daddys hit
A world where mommys scream
Both killing their children
Killing their hopes killing their dreams
A world that makes you crazy
But does that make me insane?
A world thats without morals
A world thats without shame
A world that seems so dark
A world that seems so cold
A world that kills the young
A world that scars the old
A world that kills our hopes
Shoots them out of the sky
A world that kills us all
And makes us want to die.
poem by Jocelynn Halbauer
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If we became students of Malcolm X, we would not have young black men out there killing each other like they're killing each other now. Young black men would not be impregnating young black women at the rate going on now. We'd not have the drugs we have now, or the alcoholism.
I Will Oppose The Men Of War
I will oppose the men of war until the Reaper takes me
Until the breath that gives me life it finally forsakes me
I'll use words for to oppose them they send the young to battle
To fight for the colour of their National flag and die like slaughtered cattle.
I may not be a wordsmith and my rhymes seem out of fashion
But I will oppose the men of war oppose them with a passion
Because of them so many die and so many have to suffer
They may fool some but they do not fool me for I am not a duffer.
I will oppose the men of war those who send their fighter jets to bomb and slaughter
They leave the grieving mother for to mourn her dead her young son and young daughter
Collateral damage they call it by such arrogance how can one not feel disgusted
I will oppose these men of war for they cannot be trusted.
I will oppose the men of war though some may celebrate them
I will prick their egos with my pen with words I will deflate them
They enjoy the good life with their loathsome mates whilst others all too willing
To go and fight their war for them and for them do the killing.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Young To Die
Everybody
Don't want no war,
'Cos we're too young to die,
So many people,
All around the world,
Seen their brothers fry.
What's the motive?
In your madness.
You've made my people cry.
So politicians this time
Keep your distance.
'Cos we're too young to die.
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
What's the answer?
To our problems.
I think we've gone too high,
Little children,
Never said a word now,
But still they have to die.
It won't be long.
Dancing like we do now,
To put this sad world right.
So don't you worry,
Suffer no more,
'Cos we're too young to die.
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
All gone when they drop the bomb.
Can the politicians reassure?
'Cos here I am presuming that
Nobody wants a war
There's so many people praying
Just to find out if they're staying.
But lately stately governments
And disillusioned leaders,
So full of empty promises
But rarely do they feed us.
Put our backs against the wall,
Or don't we count at all?
Can you decide,
Are you mesmerised.
Do you know which side you're standing?
Cos when it falls gonna take us all.
Gotta know what we're demanding,
I never lie,
Can't your hear the cry,
Coming from on high,
WE'RE TOO YOUNG TO DIE
song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children Say
I keep to myself
What I might share with others
But they dont seem to understand
I open my mouth
To rediscover
That I dont have the words at my command
Holding out
For a world so much better
But Im a stranger in a strangers land
All my friends have sold out
Couldnt handle the pressure
Counting their blessings trying to salvage what they can
Children say - children say
We open our minds as one
But one more day - slips away
Why dont the dreams of the young never come to be
When I overhear
My parents conversations
Well Im struck by the things they say
It seems they traded the years
For mere complications
Who ever thought it could end this way
They close the door
But they cant lock it
cause something of their childhood remains
And theyve felt it before
When the man in their pocket
Counted the cost of their material gains
Children say - come what may
Be strong for the friends youve known
But one fine day - (not) far away
Will we remember the love we used to own
Children say - children say
We open our minds as one
As one more day slips away
Why dont the dreams of the young never come to be
Well you knew what I was saying
But did you know what it meant
When you saw that look in my eye
Did you know it was heaven sent
Was it all a waking dream
All that time we must have spent
Well I guess it must have been
Somehow that feeling came and went
Children say - come what may
Be strong for the friends youve known
But one fine day - (not) far away
Will we remember the love we used to own
Children say - children say
We open our minds as one
As one more day - slips away
Why dont the dreams of the young never come to be
Children say - children say
We thought it would never go
As one more day - slips away
Who ever thought we could be so lonely
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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9/11, And The Days After
how many died that day
at the World Trade Center?
how many died
in the field?
and how many have died...
how many young boys
sent off to war?
how many citizens of Iraq?
Afghanistan?
how many women and children?
how many deaths
does it take for
us to finally understand?
killing is wrong!
one death does not
justify another!
murder does not
heal wounds...
or bring back
loved ones.....
one decade later....
and we still dont understand
the value of life...
and therein lies
the cause for mourning,
and the sadness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Barbara Allen's Cruelty
IN Scarlet town, where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwellin',
Made every youth cry Well-a-way!
Her name was Barbara Allen.
All in the merry month of May,
When green buds they were swellin',
Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his man in to her then,
To the town where she was dwellin',
'O haste and come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.'
So slowly, slowly rase she up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And when she drew the curtain by--
'Young man, I think you're dyin'.'
'O it 's I am sick and very very sick,
And it 's all for Barbara Allen.'
'O the better for me ye'se never be,
Tho' your heart's blood were a-spillin'!
'O dinna ye mind, young man,' says she,
'When the red wine ye were fillin',
That ye made the healths go round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allen?'
He turn'd his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealin':
'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
And be kind to Barbara Allen!'
As she was walking o'er the fields,
She heard the dead-bell knellin';
And every jow the dead-bell gave
Cried 'Woe to Barbara Allen.'
'O mother, mother, make my bed,
O make it saft and narrow:
My love has died for me to-day,
I'll die for him to-morrow.
'Farewell,' she said, 'ye virgins all,
And shun the fault I fell in:
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barbara Allen.'
Past - Present Day - Future.
Baby - Past
You are smallest & the most cutest baby in the world.
You are fragile, perfect than you could ever imagine.
You are now independent by taking your first steps.
You are growing, speaking, walking & talking.
Child - Past
You start school, you are shy.
You make friends.
You share with your friends.
You have your first sleepover with your friends.
Teenager - Present
You start High School/Secondary School.
You lose old friends and gain new friends.
You go though change.
You move house.
You learn to drive.
You own a car.
You become sexually active.
You have your first girlfriend.
You have your first break up.
You have your first drink.
You have your first cigarette.
Adult Hood - Future.
You move out and become independent.
You have a job.
You settle down.
You travel the world.
You become successful.
You teach your children how you were tout by your own parents.
You have to let go of your children and let them go though life just like I have described in the poem.
Retirement - Future.
You grow old with your partner.
You become old and weak.
You have your children family member by your side.
You finale leave this earth and see heaven for what it really is.
Because who know what happened's after death you could live this over and over again.
poem by Billy AstonWright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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