Can't see, Through the fog of war, The conflict hides so much. The blood of our foes, Boils over, and the steam makes, This Strange fog of war.
Warning: the following post is political.
I have spent a lot of time trying to come up with something meaningful to say about this election we have coming up. And I kept failing, I’m not a political annalists by any stretch of the imagination–though I do have a sociology degree my focuses has never really been on standard politics–I’m more a Pollock person. Even then I’ve spent most of my life using my words in poetry and fiction. And as such I’m really out of practice when it comes to these sorts of things.
So after spending way to much time thinking about it this is what I’ve decided to say: this is important. Yes all elections are important, but right now this one is more important. And it is essential that we don’t lose sight of that. I have seen far to many people become disillusioned with our political system and start to think that these things don’t matter–but they do.
You may not get the politicians that you want, you may not get the political system you want, you will most likely not get to live in the kind of world you want. And you have every right to be angry and frustrated about that. But this election right now, it still matters. And dismissing the two sides as being the same in this moment is simply false.
I would hope we can all be mature enough to understand that getting what we want isn’t the only reason to vote. And it isn’t the only reason to care, that’s selfishness. We must care even when we have every reason not to, even when we get nothing for ourselves from the deal. A world where people care enough about others to vote on their behalf is a good one, it’s hard to achieve, but it’s worth striving for.
I only have 300 or so followers–and I know not all of you even live inside the US. But even then I think this is still worth writing–still worth thinking about.
This election matters,
And your vote matters,
Even when the system and everyone in it tries to tell you it doesn’t.
You may not be able to get to the world you want to live in, but I think it’s very possible to get to the world that someone else needs right now.
That’s all I have–try to get some sleep everyone–until we meet again.
Have you considered,
That when the skies turn blood red,
It's far, far too late?
So in the end,
The diagnosis is humanity,
I should have known from the start.
I like to think of myself as a nice guy,
Perhaps maybe that’s a lie,
But let me give you a piece of advice,
If you don’t like what I do or say,
Then let me rot, in obscurity away.
Poems are like magic,
Power wrought not just from my pen,
But from every word seen and spoken again,
Truth or not,
It’s meaningless if left to rot.
So don’t call me out for my faults,
Infamy spreads like fire.
When the skies turned red as blood, when the earth turned pail with fright, when the water froze in fear, and when the flame would not ignite.
When hope was thrown into the wind, and lost on the mist. At last four savors appeared the downtrodden, with power and meekness to spare.
They had no reason to save us, but that never concerned them, it seemed natural that they were our saviors, and we would be free at last.
They were truly bold when danger came, casting darkness aside, their fight never ending, their lives thrown aside.
They would do anything for us, and I don’t know why, it’s as though they could care less how there own lives end.
And after overcoming all the blocks to their path they finally found a way to save our world from destruction, cheering filled the streets, this day never to be forgotten.
But time slowly rusts promises away, and though those heroes keep on living to this very day. Not a soul can remember what they did for us, lost onto the darkness, and burned to gray dust.
And now that we have killed their memory, the ones that saved our lives, we simply disregard the fact that we threw it all away.
And now the wheel turns as time slowly passes on, and a new group searches for their saviors, to save them, from us.
In that room,
Is working hard,
Do you believe in light?
Or only in shadows?
Slipping through the cracks,
Of societies transgressions.
My only sin,
Was thinking I could win,
This never ending fight,
Against my own pain.
So I will play this game,
But I only play the fool,
For law is a loser’s game.
Justice is never served,
Only appeased until the next day.
When the cheery blossoms fell like rain, when time I could ignore.
I went to see a black wall with names lost in war.
I looked into that sandblasted wall and found to my surprise, that standing beyond its darkened veil, was a face with my eyes.
This monument of death, so simple, yet so complex, had something to say, though it fell upon many deaf ears.
It said “You must pay the price of freedom, yes indeed, but to pay the price in bodies with interest still due, you will never find your debt paid, a grater balance will always be due.”
But this wall held only regret no solution was inside, so I left this place to find it, I may succeed in time.
We say we will remember, the lessons the dead teach. But I think I see a shadow on the land, were the next monument of death will stand.
A single action,
A choice that we,
All must make no matter,
How hard the future seems we,
Must move forward and choose who we,
Want to be in the end and believe,
That it’s a choice worth making in the end.