This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO
Showing posts with label dissent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dissent. Show all posts

PEACE... COME STUMBLING






Do you know what astonished me most in the world? The inability of force to create anything. In the long run the sword is always beaten by the spirit. Soldiers usually win battles and generals get the credit for them. You must not fight too often with one enemy, or you will teach him all your art of war. If they want peace, nations should avoid the pin-pricks that precede cannon shots.
__Napoleon Bonaparte
We cannot use peace. It must come stumbling.

We cannot force peace. It must enter free of war.

Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.
__Albert Einstein
Peace, if it rears its beautiful head, will have found its legs in the resistance to bloodshed.

The stepping stones of this event are laid down by the people.

We must choose to walk upon the stones and not be motivated by force.

I like to believe that people in the long run are going to do more to promote peace than our governments. Indeed, I think that people want peace so much that one of these days governments had better get out of the way and let them have it.
__Dwight D. Eisenhower
But… violent and meaningful reactions to power (or tyranny) are not out of step with the natural path toward peace.

So, when peace stumbles, as it will, it must be held upright by the strength of these actions, not made to fall away.

In other words, any use of force on the way toward peace must never stem from unbridled, unreasonable or unmitigated violence; instead it must always be motivated by and in line with the goal of peace, not power.

The goal toward which all history tends is peace, not peace through the medium of war, not peace through a process of universal intimidation, not peace through a program of mutual impoverishment, not peace by any means that leaves the world too weak or too frightened to go on fighting, but peace pure and simple based on that will to peace which has animated the overwhelming majority of mankind through countless ages. This will to peace does not arise out of a cowardly desire to preserve one's life and property, but out of conviction that the fullest development of the highest powers of men can be achieved only in a world of peace.
__Robert Maynard Hutchins




© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman

A New Language of Peace

Inspired by betmo's Tuesday Post for Peace

on

The Tree



IT MATTERS WHAT WE DO...

(Ben Heine - Cartoons)
It matters what we do.
The liberation possesses us
Like death owns our bones.
While we beam a maw of daggers
The freeway writhes next to us
Like a pit of angry snakes.
A liberty bell protests pointlessly in the harbor,
Some ashen patriot, or adolescent, must be torturing it…

Let’s not conjure this painting further.
Forget about the relentless racket.
Forget about freedom for a moment.
Think only of the terror stuffed deep down
Like a wellhead pawing the ocean floor,
Think only of ourselves and our callous skin,
An opportunity to taste such bitterness;
How acerbic and most foul to live without conscience…



© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman


Thanks to C&L


Inspired in part by Ben Heine's Disasterous Occupation

THE COLOSSEUM



(Ben Heine - Cartoons)


The gentle brush of leaves awakens me
Startles me out of my amber vision
A recurring dream

Hooded men with rusty swords
Wrapped to the knees in
crepidas
Tramp solidly over The
Colosseum floor
Thickly marching -click click click click-
Oven timers set to broil

Surrounded by a pride of green faced lions
Proud men and women and children
Gleaming with a brilliant, crisp air
The kind of air that comes from victory
Or the expectation of it

We stand in the center
Debris rains down around our feet
The horde growing uneasy
Licking their chops ready to grimly applaud
And point collective thumbs down

Our flesh vibrates with the rumbling ground
We wait
We breathe
Perhaps for the last time
The emperor waves his yellow hands

There is an ear-splitting silence

The hooded men l
ike canyon walls lean forward
Click
We do not flinch
Click
We do not flinch
Click
We do not flinch

We raise our steadied weapons
And begin to paint


© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman

Previous Post - EXIT



EMPIRE'S COFFIN

READ THE POEM +/-
US generals ‘will quit’ if Bush orders Iran attack

SOME of America’s most senior military commanders are prepared to resign if the White House orders a military strike against Iran, according to highly placed defence and intelligence sources.
Tension in the Gulf region has raised fears that an attack on Iran is becoming increasingly likely before President George Bush leaves office. The Sunday Times has learnt that up to five generals and admirals are willing to resign rather than approve what they consider would be a reckless attack.
“There are four or five generals and admirals we know of who would resign if Bush ordered an attack on Iran,” a source with close ties to British intelligence said. “There is simply no stomach for it in the Pentagon, and a lot of people question whether such an attack would be effective or even possible.” (More...)



The prowling empire’s a coffin;
a burial plot of shattered lies,
and within its quagmire of bleached bone,
warriors lurch from its grasp
making a mess

out of the flesh,
the living disturbed,
torn away in the streets.

Instead of guns the warriors are using dissent,
breaking ranks, deciding for themselves.

Their decorated humanity opens fire
on the puppet master’s strings,
shouting down the noise machine
with brazen dispute.

The red cackle of life’s rising up
with a screeching horn to its lips
leading us forward, tongues wagging.

High above the newly lifted ground
the warriors are sensing movement.
Upon the surface, the wet ground,
feet have begun to move,
eyes to open.
All this commotion,
tap-tapping under hopeful skies
filled with clouds made of string.




© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman



Previous Post - RUMORS OF GLORY

MEN WITHOUT EYES

Men without eyes will go out alone
Shatter the portrait downward
And to the jackals

Offer pennies of our jaded wish.
Does anyone understand this?
Have we thought of our lovelessness?

Behind our last breaths of our
unfortunate disgust
The fear-fouled goodness
The bleeding run through
The repellent nationalist
The deviating line in the sand
The scraggly-toothed oppressors
The slipshod parishioners
The depleted silvery-white
The dabbing stroke of agony
The bleakness of
genocide
The onslaught of despotic ideals
The limbless industrialized slavery
The brutal sacraments of hypocrisy
The barbed fruits of empirical reckoning
The headless optimism of whole ruination

Does anyone know what I am saying?
Have we thought of our collusion?

O! Let us anoint our occasion of peace!
Revolt of this; the master’s haunt!
War should be our slave!
Not our medication!
Not a haggard monster
To move about
Or flaunt!

Starvation can better be murdered
Than the humanity of our soul.
Hate can better be slaughtered
Than the hands of our hopes.
Oppression can better be hollowed
Than the eyes of our love.
Abuse can better be removed
Than the heart of a child.

O! Let us anoint our occasion of peace!
Let us look to
heal rather than conquer!
To gentleness instead of extended battering!
To the bird of lasting peace
Rather than the beast of war!

Faint are the solemn cries of this; our ending.
Faint are the urges of this; our sustenance.
Faint is the hope of this; our dissent.
Faint is the scratching of death.
Faint is our longing for life.
Shrill are the men without eyes.



mrp

DISSENT



Eternity kisses us in our deep myopic sleep
Covering o`er the crimson lens of dull fact
Covering screaming mouths that disagree
And shrouding the collateral damned attack
Hoist the proud pennants and hide the sky
Silenced detractors in their prison for life
Hush upon reality with molten metal hell
Beautiful crooning snuffed n bleeding well
Warble your country song so loud and clear
Rockets blood red are landing now, near
Sovereignty screams back, the guilty flee
Leaving our country broken and upon her knees
March on now you goddamned killing machine
Into the next arid-crimson-hot-desert storm
Run red-blood river, run swift to the sea
For America shall no longer bleed for thee...

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