Trinkets

This piece was written way back just a few weeks before the kuwait-iraq war, 1990. It won itself a place in an International Poetry Competition. A heart devoid of love begets war, arrogance and more things in the closet. Can you sleep at night knowing that when you awake you may see that everything you've destroyed include your little niche in transcient~heaven

I've heard of little stars above
That shone another time
And of sweet smelling Daffodils
That bloomed in early Spring

I've touched the sands of yesteryear
That once graced the Summer shorelines
But I've never felt it in my heart
The love you've given me...

What is this thing we call Love
Is it dropping bombs to kill
To laugh and weep two-facedly
Whilst stabbing each other's backs

{Split beat - voices whispered in background}

"To reap away the happiness of
Someone else's land"

Is it to form an Aid of Universal
Brotherhood
To lend a helping hand

{Split beat - voices whispered in background}

"To not repeat what our forefathers left behind"

I've yet to see the rising Sun
And dews that help to heal
The sorrows and the fears in men
I've yet to see it be

For all we've done is to destroy
The World and what's within
All fatherless children
That may seem to be leaders of a land

{Split beat - voices whispered in background}

"Is this a dream
To find that little pot of gold
at the end of the morning rainbow"

I've heard of little stars above
That shone another time
And of sweet smelling Daffodils
That bloomed in early Spring

{Split beat - voices whispered in background}
"Is it a dream
To find that little pot of gold
at the end of the morning rainbow
Its just a dream.."

To proudly say one day
That this un-weeded
Garden in the Sky
Was earth we lived in...

I've heard of little stars above
That shone another time
And of sweet smelling Daffodils
That bloomed in early Spring

{Split beat - children's voices whispered in background}

"Is it a dream
To find that little pot of gold
at the end of the morning rainbow
Its just a dream.."

Sans Titre

Would you, if you were given wealth and power destroy a life, that took years to shape, stories to build, and pages of bittersweetness only to halt it in a flash of an instance, with a bullet, or...

I have but a Dollar
To spare you today
But
If I could, I'd bring
You home, and wash
Your tired feet
Whilst you admire
The M-16
I
Hold in my hands