THE PLANTING SEASON

3 US Troops Killed in Iraq Making April the Deadliest for US Troops in the Last 7 Months

We planted the seeds deep down
Counting the slain as we plowed
We can hardly recall
The first red memory of life,
But we remember this war’s dead
We recall the smell in spoiled air
Remember hearing,
“They will treat us as liberator”
And “It’ll be a cakewalk”,
And dreading the “WMD”…

Our garden has been planted
Like the tombs `round warfare
Gently lowering life’s seeds
Then off to dinner we traipse
And to pay our bills on time
While the listless screen blasts
Our hopes like beaten mongrels
Left to daydream in their slavery

Our plot has been planted
Like tombs `round warfare
Yet we’ve left an empty patch
For burying our greatest threat
A long swathe of evened thatch
Ready to balance out our debt
Prepared to plant, water, and grow
The resentment of our containment
To nurture a new hope and freedom
Counting the seasons as we go…



© 2008 mrp/thepoetryman

PLANTING SEASON

“…I said we'd be having hearings on the war, we'd have hearings. But I don't see us going to a place of impeachment," Pelosi said in an interview on NBC's Meet the Press. "Investigation does not equate to impeachment. Investigation is the requirement of Congress. It is about checks and balances."

We planted the seeds deep down
Counting the slain as we plowed
We can hardly recall
The first red memory of life,
But we remember this war’s dead
We recall the smell in spoiled air
Remember hearing,
“They will treat us as liberator”
And “It’ll be a cakewalk”,
And dreading the “WMD”…

Our garden has been planted
Like the tombs `round warfare
Gently lowering life’s seeds
Then off to dinner we traipse
And to pay our bills on time
While the listless screen blasts
Our hopes like beaten mongrels
Left to daydream in their slavery

Our plot has been planted
Like tombs `round warfare
Yet we’ve left an empty patch
For burying our greatest threat
A long swathe of evened thatch
Ready to balance out our debt
Prepared to plant, water, and grow
The resentment of our containment
To nurture a new hope and freedom
Counting the seasons as we go…




Copyright © 2006 mrp

Seed Count

FREEWAY

Men live such lies.
They march and rave,
Warring backward, spewing hate.
(It’d have been easier to witness
But for the slaughter of humankind.)

Do we not stand for anything?
Have we such hate?
A rage of spangle-toothed graves;
(Our humanity’s winnings
In pain’s pragmatic deliverance.)

Isn’t it time for us to be heard.
Have we not the will to be free;
For now we are slaves to apathy.
(March forward with lips wet of hope
And legs heartened by liberty.)

Copyright © 2006 mrp

Inspired by PT Cruiser