A Bullet For The Child
Seems so everyday, that I turn my TV on of late
Such as it is we live in a world, that can’t tolerate
Another victim, and a cause of nothing but hate
Mother cries as her husband is missing, to his fate
A little child screams, from the agony of this war
Is it too much to ask, that we can’t seek forevermore
As I witness this I can feel my heart, become sore
A peace and simple comprehension, of a loving law
How much more, can we now be expected to take?
Is a young generation, so meaningless for your stake?
Of all the little coins gathered, and the profits you rake
Winding your politics, for the innocent as to the snake
Have you ever, ever held the body of a dying child?
Guess you’ve never caught, a father’s tears in the wild
Of a so called campaign, which death only reconciled
Have you watched your life’s work, burned so defiled?
Is that a way of life for the weaker kind, is being weak?
Wasn’t it everyone not just the few, you said you seek?
Or was this the promise to mean another, so very sleek?
Tainted smiles on the press face, of the so called meek
What if it was your father, that came home to his son?
But to see his father dead, for the cause of a lie begun
Never ending as the tyranny, was false and so undone
I prefer to have no faith at all, than to excuse the burden
One day when the people rise up, and take the glory
And now to open a new chapter, to begin an equal jury
Marching onward to the flux, of a government’s story
Fulfilment of lies, of a history of bloodshed in glory
A new flag for the planet will now stand, on the castle
Of every persons face, be recognised under its steeple
To be ruled and led by a party of us, not what is so brutal
I wish this too, and if only it was to be ever so very simple
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Comments about this poem (A Bullet For The Child by Vision Ghost )
- American red, Harold R Hunt Sr
- The Race is on., Harold R Hunt Sr
- Decree's, Cee Bea
- A letter to a soldier., Harold R Hunt Sr
- 11 Days Before Christmas, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Who Are These Killers, Harold R Hunt Sr
- When I, Harold R Hunt Sr
- That night mother had no egg, Mark Heathcote
- Under my microscope's scrutiny تحت تمحيص.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Misunderstanding of Christmas., Harold R Hunt Sr
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