Strike Up The Band
Strike! Strike!
Strike up the Band!
If you're brown
please beware
If you’re black
watch your back
If you’re yellow
dive for cover
If you’re red
you’re already dead
Strike! Strike!
Strike up the Band!
They’re coming to take us away!
They’re coming to take us away!
Raise high the flag
Raise high those stars and stripes
We’re Christians and Hindus
Muslims and Jews
We work, we sing, we dance
We play in parks
On Sundays after church
We’re neighbors
We’re lovers
We’re builders, cowboys
waiters, and cooks
We’re hot dog vendors
and ice cream peddlers
We hoe your fields
and pick your fruit.
We drive your trucks
and plow your fields
We cut your meat
and herd your cows
You wonder the price
You wonder the vice
It’s time to De-Ice
Rid us of these lice?
Strike! Strike!
Strike up the Band!
They came and took us away
away
away
away to Guantanamo
Flying flag
striped flag
red flag
white flag
blue flag
resilient flag
American flag
This beautiful flag
has stood the the test of hard times,
this beautiful flag
waves with a grand elegant over vallies,
love it as your own mother, her embrace
is warmer that spring days!
Her wolves howl in the battering wind
to make themselves heard,
their energy is surely wasted;
true patriots fight for their country:
no voice is louder than liberty!
This beautiful flag was draped
by Betsy Ross, the patriotess,
her devotion was expressed eloquently;
her noble spirit is carved in history.
This beautiful flag is the pride
of every American and the ones
who yearn for a life of liberty!
Do you stand with those traitors,
or react to their madness?
Who swears allegiance to only one flag
is a son and daughter of this great land,
but that one who has no love
for America and its beauty
is far from a gentle dove;
he can never brag
about its glory
and appreciate its generosity
to exchange it for total loyalty!
Its the price soldiers pay
in a time of win and lose,
when an escape is not easy to choose;
stand with them and pray;
help them raise this beautiful flag!
A field of blue
For who?
US or you
If I red, this right
About the American white
Knight's
Field of blue
Seeking justice true
Using a vigilant eagle eye
Persevering every try
Proudly raising the flag high
It flies
Message sent
Throughout the forging valley's tent
Watching old glory touch the stars
Blue field defends its red, white bars
Healing any freedom scars
Fifty or thirteen
It all means
The same
When one claims
An independent life
While piping the fife
And banging a drum
Feeling welcome
Under the blue sky
Where the American flag flies
High
Sounding the call
Down at the mall
Holiday sale all
Month long
Playing patriotic songs
Before debating what is wrong
Making us blue
Wondering exactly what is true?
That is how we act
And if you do not like it, go pack
Header note:
Pattern Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Submission: July 14, 2026
Title: The Pattern of Hope
THE PATTERN OF HOPE
With needle and hope she sewed one piece of wool,
And from the bunting, star and stripe were born.
Red, white, cut by candlelight and careful pull,
A circle of thirteen, each by one snip worn.
Betsy, widow of courage, turned cloth to free,
Fed her family with hands that would not tire.
She made a nation’s pattern from nothing — see?
A flag of love stitched out of need and fire.
Now Sara cuts for daughters, just the same,
With very little money, but a heart of light.
Two women, different years, but one true name:
Courage that stitches darkness into bright.
From Betsy’s flag to Sara’s hem to me —
One needle, one pattern, sets our spirits free.
I used to always wonder
Why you would see some
People on television
Burning the flag
‘neath a mighty oak tree,
a squirrel and a raccoon
found a flag and together said,
“This flag belongs to you and me!”
The racoon hugged the stripes,
red and white from tail to toe
“These colors stand for
bravery we ought to show!”
The squirrel draped the stars,
blue and bright across his chest,
proudly he puffed and shouted,
“These stand for freedom at its best!”
Although their steps were silly,
and their hats were leaves,
they carried freedom’s colors
with patriotic hearts on furry sleeves.
He died on the field, to live in the heart,
Lifted are nations by heroes that fall;
Never we’ll know on which ground he took part;
But then, the truth is, he died on them all.
He held, on that day, “No evil shall pass!
No, not today, though I die at my post!”
Courage is not just a word by the crass,
But rises with flames, when duty calls most.
What shall we think of a life cut so short?
There once died a rose, that others might bloom;
What shall that death to the living report?
There once rose a call, that lives past the Tomb:
To face every danger, never to lag,
And to embody what’s meant by the flag.
A tinted rainbow smeared with blood
On its surface lies the bodies of youth devoured by guns
Guns aimed at them by the same people who were meant to protect them
46 years later we are still fighting the same battle as the class of 76
But now the narrative has changed
Instead of fighting against being taught in a language we don’t understand
The fight is against fees and black on black oppression
Please forgive mama that they didn’t tell you when you were voting in 1994 that you were voting for your grandkids and great grandkids to be unemployed
Please forgive me sir that they didn’t tell you ukuthi you were voting for your kids to be working at a carwash with a Masters degree
I am sorry that they didn’t tell you, you were voting for black-on-black oppression
OLYMPICS ESCAPE
AROUND THE FLAG, WE CAN DRAPE
A WINTER LANDSCAPE
I teach beneath a foreign sun,
where the desert hums in quiet gold,
and the call to prayer meets the ringing bell
of a Philippine school far from home.
My passport rests heavily in my pocket,
but my heart carries islands
Luzon’s mountains, Visayas’ seas,
Mindanao’s songs whispered in memory.
I speak of heroes not carved in stone alone,
but alive in values
malasakit, bayanihan, dignity in labor,
hope glowing on a smart board.
I tell my students:
Nationalism is not only loving the land you stand on,
but honoring the land that raised your name,
even when your feet are planted elsewhere.
In Qatar, I draw maps with digital light,
yet the truest map is within
a compass pointing always home,
no matter how far the journey goes.
Every correct answer, every dream encouraged,
is a quiet service to the nation I left behind.
For though I teach abroad,
my purpose remains Filipino.
I've come to the conclusion,
you can't walk both sides of the street for long,
sooner or later, you must make a decision,
pick one and stick to it, whether right or wrong.
No one is in control of everything, all the time,
so, when the situation becomes furious and fast
the hour is now to stand up, be counted,
nail your colours to the mast.
And, if not with, then you're against them,
somewhere you have to draw the line,
no matter who's side you're on,
but, as for me... I'm on mine.
I am sending a white flag
To my father
Because the fall
Ended today
And soon
My father
Will bring the horrible
Winter back
That I just hate
Because we don't get
Any sun at all
We only get gray sky
That makes me depress
A lot
Also the grey sky
Puts me to sleep
You wave that flag in my face
judging my concern for the human race
Who are you to know my compassion
I embrace my own set of passion
I don't have the same interest as you
Not jumping on a bandwagon feeling untrue
I am not one to quickly pick a side
it may not be you I would want to confide
If I am not truly vested that's completely fine
So don't lecture, taunt or try to change my mind.
I’m always the first one to raise the white flag.
Truth be told, I get tired of always being the peacekeeper.
I lose my temper, and you want to act like a high schooler.
Hang up on me.
Ignore my call.
Avoid eye contact.
Save me the dramatics.
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