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heard a phrase today,
from a moderate man,
sitting there,
pondering sound bites,
safe at home,

Oh, yes, these moaners and sigher's
they can't stand the war
they give not but mutterings
to an already bloodied floor
they complain...on, woe is me
while parents sob in the night
their child never to see.
And the wives and little ones
whose daddy has left this ground
these damned liberal big mouths
have me pounding the ground.

My God, is there justice for the dead?
Those whose blood have painted the ground
the sand in the Middle is sopping in blood!
And they cover their faces with scarves -
and black masks to hid their blackness
bloodied hands, dark minds.
Walking in darkness, reaping the blood
it now worse than ever the tyrants rule in glee
bury a Christian - get a Virgin.

My rage resides within my thoughts
rage against despots with no value of human life.
Strap a bomb on a child, hell a kid ain't worth nothing!
No nothing.... but the future.... if there is one.

Soaring Feather 01.31.07