Whose Sweet Face?

                                                    In the Middle ~ Philip Brent Harris


While club and maul and stick and mace
may have been effective to smash a face,
they all require study, practice and intent,
maim or murder always what was meant.

While the spear and stone or an arbalest,
increased striking distance, were not fast.
Designed to kill prey, as dangerous as us
finished more than a few; why the fuss?

Horses, armor, siege towers, trebuchet,
let us now war each year and each day.
While kings, princes, clerics and fools
told us they’d determine all of the rules.

Smooth-bore muskets soldiers adorned;
many a mother their lost sons mourned.
While power, money grappled for more,
Poor people stayed poor, as ever before.

Killing too slow, rifles, cannons are made.
Based behind battles, the powerful stayed,
a poor soldier’s life kept their belly filled.
Lucky ones won’t be shot, maimed, killed.

Young men and now women, ordered to die;
titanic tanks, super ships; bombs fill the sky.
Mad, monied miser hide behind a stone wall;
soldiers like stalks scythed in row, sadly fall.

As if this not enough, it’s grown out of hand,
while folks who should lead us, let it expand.
They bow before mammon of the gun lobby;
being in our government is less than a hobby.

Have all the ethical people perished in a war?
It’s hard to explain how we got where we are.
When a third of our populace own every gun,
some 300,000,000+, it is not hard to find one

Whether child or an adult, a criminal or crazy,
if you can’t grab a gun, you’re stupid or lazy.
After we shoot in fear, anger, hatred, bigotry,
we leave tears, blood, sorrow, a wake on sea.

We blame others for our plight and all its ills,
insecure, to the haters, we sacrifice our wills..
The corrupt politicians, people who play god
Fan flames, to our terror; we smile and nod.

As those flames burn higher, hotter, my dears,
We praise fools because they nurture our fears.
Cause many to shoot guns, wildly, into the air;
Where bullets land, they neither know nor care.

Myriad pistols, assault weapons, we can’t wait,
as grand old political puppets posture and prate.
Yet, every day, random people continue to die.
Whether targets or victims, I can only ask why.

If it’s a little child, parent, cop killer, killer cop,
Why won’t we see that this madness must stop?
While voices in the wilderness to sense appeal,
time we each became our own Howard Beale.

Be mad as hell, say we won’t take it anymore,
leaders’ toes to a fire, what in hell are they for?
Change our culture of violence, murder blood;
I imagine it’s past time for another world flood.

What learned passion or paranoia can we let go?
Religion, nationalism, stupidity, I want to know.
Simply short-sighted, we cannot look past today,
Failing the future might, we’ll kill and we’ll play.

No matter what weapon, what place or what time,
we cannot control our cunning; we clash to climb.
While most are kept ignorant; I sure it’s by design,
If you are educated, you may steal what is mine.

So, I’m waiting for sanity to show its sweet face,
I’ll admit to despairing for the whole human race,
our sad, battered, beautiful world, turning in space,
all of the life which we’re trying so hard to erase.


Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength,  Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment


Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think.

See more of my creative offerings and opinions at:

Brent Harris Fine Art

Philip Brent Digital Art

Vida Voices

Scriggler TPM

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