It's been a while since I've last written poetry and published here. Usually this happens when there is something is on my mind and I can also according to put into words and form, but in many current things I'm on a lyrical level, sadly more often just literally speechless. Not this time.
unarmed
again break the old war wounds, scars
the same as then,
as I was a soldier.
and I remember again what it means
fight, murder, wounding,
to scream, run, shoot to die.
are you still friends, maybe tomorrow
enemy,
always remember, always remember
,
this war knows no winner, who
fight has already lost.
there is only victory or death,
and each believes himself is righteous even as winners,
since only the winner,
to blame, who perish ultimately
and never will it be different
is war good that war is good - then we
teach again the prophets.
the anger is the spear, he stands
deeply.
is the sword of hate,
it cuts and divides.
the anger is the sign, are you hiding behind the
.
fronts, some blurred, others harden.
divided and ruled, cheering and drooling
their march on without ceasing.
and see the generals, their razor-sharp finger pointed
are always directed to the enemies:
it you? is he? am I?
are you still friends, maybe tomorrow
enemy,
always remember, always remember
,
this war has no winner, who
fight has already lost.
I have the barracks seen from the inside,
drill in which even the children;
I saw storm brave men and women forward,
and then their neighbors were dead;
I saw chaos on the battlefield,
was often wounded, almost slain.
how many times I wished I brought an end, until I
one day recognize the truth: the battle is just
end on that day,
as we drop the weapon
and stop easily.
the anger is the spear, he stands
deeply.
is the sword of hate,
it cuts and divides.
the anger is the sign, are you hiding behind the
.
and so I decided one day,
that I no longer want to fight.
I put the weapon in succession, the first
angry, and then the hate, the anger
last, the only protection.
now that I am unarmed,
I realize once again that this
knows only war soldiers.
unarmed, unprotected,
threshes now all on me.
and I feel now much clearer
like the prints, all the sections, with no sign
burn deeper.
are you still friends, maybe tomorrow
enemy,
always remember, always remember
,
this war has no winner, who
fight has already lost.
but I have no regrets;
the clarity of the highest wages,
the coward murders continue.
as I gave up fighting it,
I could see the truth: this war has no winner
,
who fight has already lost.
(Posted: 27/01/2010)
0 comments:
Post a Comment