The insatiable quest for black gold forces Tiny bruised backs up against the wall How long 'til the cradle will fall How long 'til they crack wide open Sending orphaned children Guttersniped by catastrophic wars Screaming like banshees As they perilously flee From their dismembered homes On twisted and crippled feet Mangled by cluster bombs Out onto streets of indifference Where they acquiescently tread As they beg for a peaceful future With outstretched hearts That have been shunned By unfamilial minds of indifference Whose hands push them out Onto street corners to sleep Inside dreams haunted by skeletal remains --- Sculpture of Mourning...
War on the front lines Indecipherable boundaries Moribund soldiers encircle us Dislimbed wading through ground blood
In allegiance we push on Quivering, bent down low Entering enemy territory Praying that God's on our side
Silence is all but left behind as we separate Our minds quickly fill with disconcerting thoughts That shoot through our discombobulated heads As we lurk through land mined terrain
Pushing forward, we raise our guns Moving beyond our own limits with "Only the strong will survive" As our mantra of meditation
Anger and rage have become our best friends Because at all costs, including our own lives We must duly protect our beloved country Along with its long held patriotic freedoms
Suddenly the silence in our heads is broken A round of shots has been fired Red splatters my face, colors my uniform I taste the smell of blood on my lips
I look over, my compatriot is lying face up An open wound remains where his heart once was His life has been taken by friendly fire He is down for the count permanently
His body lies still and lifeless Below him crimson blood mingles with umber dirt Organic materials create a sculpture of mourning On lands orphaned by futile wars --- Victims of War...
Victims of war Dance on shards of pain In life's futile battlefield
Ghosts dance in their head Throwing shadows of death Across casualties of life
Crimson colored tears fall From eyes long blind To blood spilt for oil
Orphaned children wandering Are blown to fragmented pieces By smart bombs dressed up as toys
Ears do not ring freedom Flags tattered and torn weep Innocents lie in a gulf of blood --- War Torn...
We stand alone under flags of disjoined countries Manipulated by leaders prepensely dividing humanity
Under gray skies filled with stealth bombers of peace That loom over stark patriotic lies
In a war torn world marred by greed Littered with corporate profiteers of death
Who punch holes in our wall of peace With their iron fists of war
Brick by brick, they're trying to knock it down As we fumble with weapons and stumble over words
In shopping malls brimming with sweatshop goods That are bought with oil soaked greenbacks
While bloodied bodies float in the sands of Fallujah Rotting flesh picked at by hungry vultures
Outraged Umms search amongst familial carnage Heart wrenched, wailing out for lost sons and daughters
Above them angels with crippled wings won't look down Their eyes are shamed by what they've left behind
Surely no Medal of Honor pinned upon their dead bodies will stop the tears As they flow freely from Mothers' eyes left behind to bury their children
With scorned hands that pray for an end to these non-sensical wars Behind veils of mourning that mask their sunken war torn eyes --- What About that Pipeline?...
You asked me to write a poem A poem about our brothers and sisters Who no longer roam So I ask you... What about that pipeline?
What pipeline you say? That pipeline That will go from Turkmenistan Right under Afghanistan And whoever rules that land Will be the man
What pipeline you say? That pipeline owned in '98 by Unocal The US gov's oil pal Who backed out of the black gold deal And who led you to believe That it wasn't George but Al Who ordered them to steal But what about that pipeline?
What pipeline you say? That pipeline That will go from Turkmenistan Right under Afghanistan And whoever owns that land Will be the man
So while rich white men are pimp fuckin' And dirt poor Afghanistans are slave truckin' Still I ask... What about that pipeline?
What pipeline you say? That pipeline That will go from Turkmenistan Right under Afghanistan And whoever rules that land Will be the man
Now watchin' the news I feel their blues Their men's blues That are wrapped under turbans with no clues Their women's blues That were once hidden under veils of differing hues Who are now finally gettin' freedom's dues
Still what pipeline you say? That pipeline That will go from Turkmenistan Right under Afghanistan And whoever owns that land will be the man
Now I hear they want Osama dead After once giving him royal CIA head As they romanced him while others bled In a land they once feared to tread
Now they want that pipeline back What pipeline you still say? That pipeline That caused the twin towers to fall That pipeline That will produce an easy billion for 'em all That pipeline That will go from Turkmenistan Right under Afghanistan And whoever rules that land Will be the man --- What now of this Modern Day Promised Land?...
Twin angels on the blue horizon Taken down by steel demons on the fly Leaving an ephemeral hole in the sky
What now of this Modern Day Promised Land?
Dante's flames engulf countless bodies Ashes fall to the ground in a snow of sorrow That's tainted red with innocents blood
What now of this Modern Day Promised Land?
Mass exodus - East, West, North and South Flocks flee their once promised Eden Exiting before being banished
What now of this Modern Day Promised Land?
Destruction sews remnants of dreams into a quilt of regret That will keep warm the survivors of tomorrow Who remain behind to put this puzzle back together