Brothers, Should It Always Come To This
Brothers,
Should we always return to the old tune
Of time and again tuning to counterpoint
Of the past pain; a throbbing return
Right at the very tipping point
Of the pinnacle to touch promised power?
Brothers, how long should we bear
Blood-spattered battles of their
Own making and their own imagination,
Their own thoughts, and their own creation?
How long should we let the pagans
Pluck off feathers from our wings
–to which stupid plundering sings –
Partying the persistence of the polluted plan
As the vampires again and again
Have the plan prepared and bared
As did our yesteryear’s gods,
Leaving us without defense, and in tense?
Let us pound the drums and tom-toms of war
And let us let the reverberating sound soar
High, high, high up there in the air
As yesteryear’s war songs we prepare
For our juggled and gagged flag to fly
Again against their blood-red raided sky.
Brothers,
Then let us swallow a little while
Their bitter bile as we prepare them to pace their last mile
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