Yesterday…
As a cherubic child,
do you have grand dreams, Pete,
of becoming, when older (but not wiser),
famous world-over (as a war criminal)?
Today…
“No quarter, no mercy,” you say.
“Punching them while they’re down,
as it should be” and with
“no stupid rules of engagement.”
To “provide quarter” ensures safety
of all combatants who surrender,
who lay down their arms,
with their hands in the air.
“No quarter” means to take no prisoners,
to execute on the spot all those vanquished,
without mercy, without justice, without due process
(like blowing-up Venezuelan boats),
a war crime by Geneva Conventions,
and war crimes got Nazis hung decades ago.
Yet now you brag about committing war crimes
while promoting reckless, endless war?
Tomorrow…
Years to come, on Judgment Day,
the cosmic Courtroom is full
of the formerly famous mighty
as well as those “following orders.”
Please take your seat, Pete,
next to jealous Nazis.
Every time I heard her cry
I would come barreling down the stairs
ready to square up to him,
both of us fuming on the edge of a fight.
As a child when you have yet to experience
the infinite pettiness of relationships,
right and wrong both have their pitfalls.
Parents had their cat and mouse games.
Father was a good man made weak,
worn out by doing the best he could.
Their battles were a joust,
their fighting had rules of engagement,
indistinct battle lines,
hard for a boy to figure out.
Boys and their mothers also have rules,
they agree to die for each other,
but how and when are never discussed.
A dog with a missing leg
Knocked down by a driver
Drove at dog speed
And barked away
We have stopped to see
A group of people, too
The dog with a missing leg
And smoke from nearby hut
The municipal is here
Health officer with a spade
Staring at the carcass
And calling for backup
The cop's siren is here
Looking around curiously
I wonder why, for a dog
And bullet in the barrels
A man looks on and yawns
A sharp kitchen knife in hand
He looks anxious
And prays for a miracle
A newsman looks on
Been here for long
A canon camera at hand
He waits for his time
The dog with a missing leg
Has brought us together
Nobody speaks but we talk
There is tension in the air
No rules of engagement
Someone is angry, another one hungry
Someone is joking, another one hoping
we are here on our terms
I am not a Poet
I know this fact true and full well
In the orthodox conventional literal way
As I am not able to use set standard form
So what I write
Therefore does not conform
So I agree wholeheartedly not disagree
Technically I am not a Poet
All I am is simply someone who
Likes to write and comment about things
That don't necessarily fit any set remit
But yet I still want to have a go
So I end up having to encroach
And impose and join in other ways
And blur the lines and rules of engagement
Because although I may not be a poet
1 thing I can admit is this
I suffer through my words
Like any tortured Poet would
As to me writing is more about
Exposure of one's true self soul and heart
Than a form of compliance to an art
If that stifles my openness and integrity
And does not keep my demons at bay
Rather lets them lie in wait
And my silence further leads onto
Yet more inevitable tortured mistakes
Screw the rules of engagement.
Focus on target acquisition.
Fix range and bearing.
Estimate windage.
Calculate time on target.
Battery away.
Commence fire.
Volley after volley.
Shot after shot.
Insult after insult.
Snide remark follows snarky jab.
Brutal comeback lands with a jolt.
Gas-lit accusations trip the NBC alarm.
F-bombs. C-words. Total devastation.
Just a typical conversation
Over no man’s land in the family room.
In a time of love and war,
All casualties are blue on blue.
With eyes riveted on War,
You wouldn’t think of The Law
Nor twice look at Rules of Engagement,
Rather baring Teeth of Resentment.
With eyes fastened on War,
One would call A Virgin a Whore:
The one in chastity her best;
The Virgin freshly passed by Hymen Test.
With eyes planted on War,
We work with our worst flaw;
A willingness to waste a man
Or along roads his movements ban.
With eyes trained on War,
You’re to pacifists A Bore:
Forfeiter of one’s chair for the floor;
A demon that mustn’t near their door!
It does not fit in these now modern times-
the news that's dominating our TVs.
With some gains made in world diplomacy-
these scenes of war are too hard to believe.
The Afghan war went on some twenty years;
yet threats of World War III seemed off the board,
since direful risks of nuclear weaponry
did grant discouragement for future wars.
And yet, it's happening before our eyes
two countries now engaged in fight or flee-
with fears of bringing others in the mix-
all NATO countries heading into war.
Though unprovoked, Ukrainians are caught
in war with sins against humanity!
Russia discounts rules of engagement, so
all women, men, and children are fair game!
How did this war slip back to brutish times-
now watching that Ukrainians must flee
to save their lives against the Russian plans
bombing their city Kyiv- and many more?
We had progressed ahead of former times
as fighting wars unveiled the awful costs.
But now, this war misfits- and perhaps peace-
is obsolete when enemies serve greed.
March 14, 2022
Contest: Kyiv Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Newmann
There are billions of reasons to vary,
That lead to contradiction and dispute.
Where diplomacy loses its voice loudly,
And grand armies begin to shoot.
Just as chessboard pawns are limited,
So to are soldiers on the battlefield.
Where rules of engagement are sanctified,
And codes of conduct are the only shield.
Yet the true warrior, seen by all, fights
Through the conflict, both day and night.
As they boldly stand up to oppression, resting
Only when wrong's defeated, no longer in sight.
The game of life plays out better with a wife
~ No one said a word about strife
Slam to Self
If you wish to place higher
in future
Listen to your elders like
Sir R.L
And don't blame other's if you
fail to listen or observe the
rules of engagement
Maybe this means
I am finally growing up
Because as a child
I hated being scolded and
corrected even when i was
obviously in the wrong
Whereas now
I absolutely love it when people
politely
Point it out i am and i am
willing to admit it
And learn from my mistakes
so as not to perpetuate them
And pass them on to other's
Every time I heard my mother cry
I would come barreling down the stairs
to square up to my father,
both of us fuming on the edge of a fight.
As a child when you have yet to experience
the intricate petty traumas of a relationship.
The world is clear-cut, not a puzzle of pitfalls
where you must grapple with the right light
the way you would pull up a kitten
from a well.
Mother was no kitten, and a boy cannot save
a woman who plays cat and mouse games.
Father was a good man made weak,
worn out by doing the best he could.
Their battles were a joust,
their fighting had rules of engagement.
Boys and their mothers also have rules,
they agree to die for each other,
even when there is so very little to die for.
Boys sprawled on the floor
intent on setting up their army men
The floor cold and inviting
The stare of a teachers eye
The curve of her smile at common play
So there’s a movie, The Rules of Engagement
that is *the internal rules or directives
among military forces
ROE defines the circumstances
conditions, degrees and manner
in which the use of force
or actions
which might be construed, as provocative
may be applied*
so I innocently ask a question kids
have no business understanding
nor have an answer for, nor
for that matter do I have
a comprehensive understanding
of statement
but I ask anyway
because such flops
often come into my brain
and out of my patootie
What are your rules of engagement?
Just then a grandfather leans into my ear
You want to know what the rules of engagement are?
You get that son of a b***ch, before he gets you!
He goes on to tell me he’s reading
Tea with Terrorists
and says you don’t
I think by then I had fallen off my chair
and was lined up with the army men
2/5/2021
Based on my true story!
*Between asterisks, definition obtained from wikipedia
========================
Today I see before me men, who last were only lads
It's been my greatest honor to have acted as a guide
to you, not only warriors but the finest of comrades
and I'd march any distance, if such men I march beside
We go forth into battle, fully trained and well prepared,
determination like a tree, together, we have grown
Ahead, rules of engagement state that lives shall not be spared
That said, if fate arrives for us, we'll not greet her alone!
Though we fight for their freedom, some will villify us still
The disagreed might say that war is something to condemn
How quickly they forget that they enlisted us to kill
or to be killed so, if you live, remember this to them
No leader's heart has felt such pride as you've inspired in mine
I call you, then, to arms, men. Follow me, now, to the line!
========================
September 20th, 2020
Deceit is carefully painted
by how the painter holds their brush
Arrogance will be their downfall
and their ego will be crushed
Hate is driven by jealousy
as they covet thy neighbor’s goods
Quick retreat is shown to all
as they scatter deep into the woods
Many ignore the rules of engagement
as they cast bricks, more lies and stones
They threaten our way of life
a new path they must be shown
The canvas displays their intentions
whether they’re peaceful or whether they’re not
Looks can be deceiving with a skillful painter’s touch
beware of all the colors and the image that they’ve wrought
Kenosha burned last night,
The flames engulfed the streets.
The peaceful protestors rioted.
Shops and stores set alight,
The flames lunged forward.
The peaceful protestors looted.
Homes and houses lit so bright,
The flames rolled toward them.
The peaceful protestors rampant.
The Gov denounced police
And bound the NG with ROE.
The peaceful protestors released.
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