Poem Written FOr the Margaret Diorio Peace Reading 2012

[theirishsea]

Poem Written For The Margaret Diorio Peace Reading 2012
(significantly revised 10/14/2012)



there's always a need
to vent
the volcano
that is in my heart
and most hearts
I think in most hearts
that take in the images, the words, the rage of war
be it in Syria, Afghanistan, the Philippines
all the dead bodies scraped from the ground
all the moaning, screeching, sobbing women
and boys

so much rubble, charred soul, the lick of flames

and I
a pretend above-it-all guy
know
that I too can harden my heart
yes, like flint
combustible
just one word of Allah or democracy
turns me into raving
like a wing above the carrion
and how my own heart
with all its high purpose, ideals
and that dream
expressed by poor stupid beat up Rodney King
minor punk or not
"why can't we all get along?"

forever it seems
there is the need to protest, weep
but little in the heart changes
history abounds
bursts
with sacrifice
and for what?
the next war
the next oppression
the next squeegee of blood
from the window,
the next hose down of the street
so the troops can march unobstructed, sterile
fingers at the triggers
but bombs are
stop signs at the roadside
there is always ugly opposition


and it is the heart
that word so filled with emotion
hope, despair, anger, love
and sorrow because all scriptures
all sacrifice
are continuous
acting out the sword clash within
the detonations of our worst attributes
oh, are we made in the image of God?
and what God
approves this message
this propaganda
this rhetoric
that stirs up the anthill?

but it is all within me
I am the universe writ small
in a heart that is old, tribal
the ancient crust
still encasing bitter pie

but I do want peace, love
I want people to be happy
all boats to rise
I want to live in beautiful sunsets
Christ and Buddha to rule
with tolerance
it does not happen
only the means of killing improve
few
sit with a peaceful heart
for within
is all the conflict
of mundane tribal wisdom
pressing down
squeezing blood out into the dust
We drink it like wolves lapping water

there is always a reason for war
always
and the armies are always stupid
Squeezing into boots
Shouldering arms
“Eyes right”
saluting
the violence
which may be freedom
which may be the will of God
but I hope God
is like Tom Waits rasped
“away on business”
And not pleased in the reviewing stand






















(original version below)



there's always a need
to vent
the volcano of frustration, despair, conflict
that is in my heart
and most hearts
I think in most hearts
that take in the images, the words, the rage of war
be it in Syria, Afghanistan, the Philippines
all the dead bodies scraped from the ground
all the moaning, screeching, sobbing women
and boys

so much rubble, charred soul, the lick of flames

and I
a pretend above-it-all guy
know
that I too can harden my heart
yes, like flint
combustible
just one word of Allah or democracy
turns me into raving
like a wing above the carrion
and how my own heart
with all its high purpose, ideals
and that dream
expressed by poor stupid beat up Rodney King
minor punk or not
"why can't we all get along?"

forever it seems
there is the need to protest, weep
but little in the human heart changes
history abounds
bursts
with sacrifice
and for what?
the next war
the next oppression
the next squeegee of human blood
from the window,
the next hose down of the street
so the troops can march unobstructed
fingers at the triggers
bombs
like stop signs at the roadside

but it is the heart
that word so filled with emotion
hope, despair, anger, love
and sorrow because all scriptures
all sacrifice
are continuous
acting out the sword clash within
the detonations of our worst attributes
oh, are we made in the image of God?
and what God
approves this message
this propaganda
this rhetoric
that stirs up the anthill?

but it is all within me
I am the universe writ small
in a heart aging
with the contemporary human experience
that is the old tribal experience
the ancient crust
still encasing the bitter pie

and I do want peace, love
I want people to be happy
all boats to rise
I want to live in beautiful sunsets
Christ and Buddha to rule
with tolerance
but that does not happen
only the means of killing improve
few
sit with a peaceful heart
for within
is all the conflict
of ego and id
and all that mundane tribal wisdom
pressing down
squeezing the blood out into the dust

there is always a reason for war
always
and the armies are always stupid
glorifying
the violence
which may be freedom
which may be the will of God
but I hope God
is like Tom Waits said
“away on business”

[theirishsea]

I did a significant revision of this poem. Maybe I will change one of the uses of the word "squeezing" in the future. Have to find something appropriate. Will read this today at the Diorio reading.

[Arcadia]

no idea about what the Diorio reading is (I´ll google it), but it sounds a great idea!!

I like this part better with the revision-way:

but it is all within me
I am the universe writ small
in a heart that is old, tribal
the ancient crust
still encasing bitter pie

and I can´t help you about squeezing, I have to go now!. Gracias for sharing with us this soul-full poem!!!

[dadio]

Mostly we read a poem a say Yes, that was good and move on and maybe forget it or mostly and then there come a long a poem that hits you in the guts and you think Christ yes, he has said it. A poem to read and read again and NOT forget.