Poem 2.

We fear death for its unknown future,
Our names being picked from mid air,
We cry with the silence that surrounds us,
But we just can’t accept,
For the thing that’s no longer there.

We never really learn the lifespan of a frown,
Or how many years after a heartbeat stops,
Ones name will be found,
In conversations that are of our past paths.

But now I speak to you,
Don’t stand in front of my grave,
Staring down at my name,
With a face so sad
It makes birds mad.

Where were you,
When I was alive?
Where were you,
When I would thrive with life,
So bright it would blind every eye.

Now I speak to you,
My dear old friend,
Your soul hurt, cut and bruised,
From the pain I chose to give you,
Yes, I’m amused.

I confess forgive me,
Because it was me,
I slit my wrists with a knife,
While I smiled to god on my knees,
I smile because I know,
That life is the art of dying.

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Poem 1.

I was once a cruel soul,
A cold hearted sucker,
Once a master of deception,
Now the victim for the better,
As I tangle in this complex universe called life,
Drown in the blue of the oceans in your eyes,
Yet, I believe I am drunk writing this,
Though it does not matter,
As I can no longer hold this urge,
The urge to kiss you,
Because I may be drunk tonight,
But you are beautiful,
In the morning I will be sober,
You’ll still be beautiful more than ever.

The poppy camouflaged in innocent blood.

Many of our fellow Englishmen are still unaware of the meaning of the poppy. They were taught that it’s a symbol representing English values, thus if one know himself as a proud Englishmen, an honourable man of the flag, he then must accept the poppy, regardless of his knowledge of it.

The poppy is a symbol of our soldiers who sacrificed their lives for the safeguarding of our freedom, our future. But I must insist as to when I say they sacrificed their lives, as though I believe some us do not really grasp the importance of this, because I don’t necessarily mean they lost their lives on the battle field with a fatal  bullet wound that touched upon their skin, I mean they sacrificed their whole existence, their chance of ever being with their families or maybe even ever having a family, watching their children grow up, go to school and graduate. Families were broken and destroyed with the death of these soldiers. Soldiers ages as young as twenty and probably even less, boys who haven’t event reached their manhood yet, brutally robbed from the chance to just simply live an ideal life with the only purpose ahead of them to be happy.

The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war. – Douglas MacArthur

The poppy. The symbol of freedom, appreciation, love and respect, a symbol of remembrance of the heroes, the people behind reason of our freedom, our heroes. To remember the stains of their blood on the land we walk on. This symbol, however, is still the basic representation of glorifying war, destruction and death. And war is something I personally will never support. Naive young boys, convinced and brainwashed by their government to carry on a tradition of killing and slaughtering their peers, being praised for it, because it is recognised to be an honour to do so. Gladly and happily giving up their lives because, war is not questioned, merely just accepted and is the norm of even today’s society. Maybe war only portrays what is already there, buried in the deepest darkest corners of our hearts and souls, the parts we do not reveal to the word, not even to our own selves; hatred, hunger for power. Or we just fear the idea of being ostracised, alienated and pushed to the margins of society, lose that sense of belonging, that security. We, as a nation and also as individuals, should appreciate every single day as it comes, every single day we live as a free person, and in a war free zone, and must consider ourselves one of the lucky ones. Even though I despise of the word “luck” as every accomplishment is treated to be luck nowadays, yet it is the singular approach for the description of merely being born into a high standard or G seven country. Whereas, if any person in their right mind was given a chance to choose the life and world they were to be brought into, do I even have to spell out what their decision would be?

But, and there is definitely is big “but” in the situation, these are crucial times we exist in. Terrorism is a leading cause to result in a war any time. Yet, terrorism has no race, religion or any type of justification, despite what the media might choose to try to feed us, as terrorism can strike anybody, anywhere. It solely has no mercy. George Orwell said it so well, the brutal truth; War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength. However, unfortunately avoiding it does not make it go away, as much as we would want it to, this is the reality of our day and it has been for a very long time. Children are playing not in playgrounds or schools but on battlefields, brave but still frightened to the core, numbed from the pain of death surrounding and haunting them, bodies dropping on every corner, where rain is, in the literal sense, blood, dodging bombs by just a fraction and fearing the queue of death, when will that bomb hit them, when will death pray upon them. The same children who carry the scars, burden and wounds inflicted by war, yet are unarmed and unaware. It is a time where these children, even though are the casualties caused by war, will never be victors or remembered as heroes, not like soldiers, or politicians who bring the foundation of war into the lives of the innocent. What is the symbol to symbolise their tragedy, to remember their trauma? As we must remember and remind ourselves, how we as the human race failed them. Now I know what you’re thinking, but, doing nothing and staying silence, in the face of this evil, is an unforgivable sin of its own.

George Orwell said it so well, the brutal truth; War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.

We need to question things, at least start somewhere. With war, the poor get pushed to the edge of poverty while ironically somehow the rich get richer. Do we know how much our government spends on war and weapons? What percentage of terrorism leads to casualties in the West compared to the East? What is the leading cause of death? How much does the government spend to prevent this? How is the media portraying these? Unless, we as individuals get a break from our busy and constantly occupied lives and do our own research the information that we simply must and should know, is not openly given to us. Quite the contrary, the hierarchy do everything in their power to distract us from asking the right questions. And therefore, popular culture was invented. Karl Marx said popular culture gave people passive satisfaction so they had no interest in overthrowing the capitalist system. In other words, it is a weapon of distraction and, it may not be fatal to one today, however, it holds a dangerous future for our children and their children and on.

“Love, don’t hate. Make peace, not war.” Simple solution, right? However, will it ever work, debatable. Because with war comes power and a longing for power is simply part of nature. Even the animal kingdom, consist of control over territory, food, sex, thus power. Survival of the strongest, if you’d like to name it. The me and I evident in everyone as children grow with the growth of the person – except for that if there is a desire for change. And we must enhance that desire, allowing it for flourish in us, and only then will that “I” overturn into a we and us. Only then will hate and hunger for power will become love and peace.

 

Nationalism which divided us as a true race.

Nationalism, a word once signifying a sense of love for one’s nation and people, now a badge of hatred that is proudly carried on nearly every collar. Are our identities really only skin deep? With the help of closet racist politicians over the years the word “nationalism” has overturned its original meaning for being proud of ones culture, identity, love for their people and the sense of being one as a nation, into a perfect symbol of hatred and justification of racist agendas. Simply for the people in power to boost their unnecessary ego into the sky, and feel powerful, to be even more powerful, and to create a monopoly in the hierarchy. Power. The eternal and never-ending human hunger for power, which rinse oneself out of their humanity and morality towards any other being.

“Nationalism is power hunger tempered by self-deception.” – George Orwell

In a way, for certain people it’s their human nature to have an undeniable desire for power. I repeat, for certain people. Similar having a desire to be loved or accepted or to even feel wanted, needed. It is a natural human instinct, and we all have different desires that make us who we are and complete our identity. But just like all desires, with it follow two sides to it, negative and positive impact.

Nationalism is the perfect tool for power-hungry closet racists to use it to control the passive, feeding their brains with whatever they please to fuel it with. We have a president of the leading so-called free country, who declared himself a nationalist. He is the perfect icon for white nationalists, who have never seen a single glimpse of the world other than their own small town, and who sit in front of their flat screen televisions all day. His minions doing his dirty work, inciting violence and hating the brown, the black, locking children up behind metal bars and chaining their freedom. Because that is what nationalism is, it is the seed and root of division. Yet, the powerful is but amused of this outcome.

“Black people are victims of an enormous amount of violence. None of those things can take place without the complicity of the people who run the schools and the city.” – Toni Morrison

Racism is with us today, with the support of nationalism, it is planting its seeds in young, vulnerable and easily influenced minds. Slavery may be over, yes, though racism is still very much alive living among us, each and every one of us. The earth is stained, with innocent blood, black people’s blood and before them Indian blood. Blood of young naive soldiers who was simply brainwashed by the powerful into being pawns for the benefit of themselves. The foundation of wars, destruction and division. Where bombs split atoms, kill children, destroy families, but the powerful become more powerful and the rich become even richer. Poverty strikes the lives of the victims and innocent. Although, it is fine and it is ok, as long as we are proud nationalists, right? Everything should be fine. Well, no! Nationalism has become a political symbol of racism and a tool for the powerful, the illusion of feeling important for the passive and unintelligent.

All I can think is that, once power falls in the hands of the wrong people, the hunger for power can shift into a deadly disease, as for one can create a monster out of oneself. It is a dangerous and ugly game. A game which only echoes hatred.

“What I fear most is power with impunity. I fear abuse of power, and the power to abuse.” – Isabel Allende

Nationalism does not care about culture, nor identity, it doesn’t protect a nation, the people, nor its honour. Nationalism is destruction, and destroys basic humane values. What it cares about is power and supremacy over the non privileged. We were taught ignorant ideologies by ignorant people who were also taught ignorant ideologies. We were taught there were many races, no there is only one race, a single race and that is the human race. The cultural, social difference within the human race is a different topic.