We accept the GREAT Grace of Jesus, works of pure love
So we get eternity and so much else
Does it mean we defend those who steal and hurt others
again and again and again and again (only westerners)
When we suspect Syria used chemical weapons, we do not wait
We bomb the same day (in whose Name? Hubris, not Jesus)
So, let us help other nations prosper, reduce emigrants
And we will not have to return precious artefacts, pay millions in fines
And have courts tell us, "Don't separate refugee children from Moms"
Because we are forgiven much, given much (USA!) and need reminding:
Don't turn refugees as you did Jews in the 1940s from these shores
Or intern Japanese Americans because we went to war against Germany
(But preferred to turn yellow when race matters impinge on humanity)
Race matters .... yes, race matters: even in forgiving, it seems
No, to the question as title to this poem: Let's get real, kinder. Kinda ...
I hardly hear the wind whispering
While we nestle, aired in the ballad.
Life gels as the flame in our hearts flares up;
Our breath, a blazing fire in winter.
I hardly can stay alone since we met,
While the elixir showers the air,
Making me take in life: we must first
Fuse to transmute into pure gold.
I hardly can see life existing
Beyond the two of us. The world is
Strange to our nest in Lotus Island
Where love is the air, water, and bread.
I hardly think tomorrow today;
Life is now, and no other day dares
Impinge on the endless love streaming
From the spring that gurgles in our hearts.
I hardly believe that life will end.
If to clasp to your bosom is life,
Then I live in eternity because
I'm lost, each moment in living Love.
© 2015
What are you to impinge on our doors,
We quiver in awe and relinquish our live?
What are you that you detract,
Our beloved before our eyes?
What are you that you drag our beloved,
So slowly and painfully?
What are you that you torment our beloved,
While we look helpless and powerless?
Why are we to live in fear of your name?
There have been names, but
No name is more fearful than yours.
Are we fighting a losing battle against you?
Or is this the beginning of our ending lives?
Aids, just what are you?
History will judge me I'm finally told,
when greatness will be mine to behold;
this naked truth has always reflected my intent...
nobody has ever been able to muzzle any sentiment.
Negative criticism can't eat away my spontaneous creativity,
and diminish this inwardly intricacy;
and if irascibility seems irrepressible...
no irony is found in relevant words that are totally irrefutable.
History will judge me for my free will,
examining my morals and authenticity,
and by its own standard, acclaim me as they will...
even for my fluent and expressive verses of sincerity.
Belying is not the mendacious creed I profess,
intolerant of inequality, inflamed by fairness...
expelling deeds of duplicity that impinge on truthfulness;
and the imbecile, like the scoundrel, still practices insolence.
History will judge me for my temperament: sad, jaunty,
jolly, jocose, comical, querulous, lonesome and moody;
and should it immortalize me among its chosen literati...
this honor I will accept with acclamation and dignity.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
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