At sea where the shadows breathe,
Old ships lie, lost beneath the sea,
Corvette Donna Freja on the patrol,
Sailing waters, old stories unfold.
An island looms, radar watch keen,
But danger whispers cuts the serene.
A Seabase ship breaks the silent night,
There in the cove, no chance to fight.
Ghosts of the Triangle call out in despair,
Waves of the past rise up in the air.
Fight or flee, under moon light,
Will the Freja engage the fight?
A cruiser’s shadow, sharp and swift,
Guns pointing fierce, the air is a rift.
Captain’s blood hot as a flame,
Decide in seconds, the cruelest game.
The Commodore, monitors the chase,
Information’s life, a dangerous space.
Fins in the dark, chasing their prey,
Past and present, a to price to pay.
Caught in fate and courage worn thin,
Echoes of battles, places they’ve been.
Water graves whisper, every tide’s song,
History's grips, the Freja must be strong.
Through the Triangle's they’ll sail once more,
A Corvette fleeing, but her spirit will roar.
In the depth of night, courage runs deep,
She’ll return to fight, where the enemy creeps.
In the dead of night.
1 2 3 4 let’s have a holy war
5 6 7 8 seed hate and propagate
9 10 11 12
***
The Beatles split up so subtly and suddenly,
They branded Yoko with the blame.
But it's still a mystery.
Outside the Dakota, Lennon was slain.
He would have said love is still the answer
but hate prevailed that day.
Decades later, the assassin is still in jail.
Mother Mary whispered to me
Let it be, let it be, let it be, but to no avail.
smoky-gray... frightened
songbird... on my windowpane...
overhead... bombs roar...
~ Sing to the melody of 'My Way' ~
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not Ukraine, what has he wrought?
If he's not himself, then he has naught
To shrink from war, with cowardice fraught
To say the things he truly feels
To lie and lie, 'til lies are real
And not the words of one who kneels
To undercut freshly inked deals
The record shows
As bombs explode
~ I did it my way...
--From Vladimir P., desperately looking for love
Brave young men, missions of laughter
Returnees ~ wounded ever after
Birthdate? My family tells me
it was 1900 or so.
I don’t remember being born;
I know when I started to grow.
My first real friend was named Reggie
We first met when I was just six.
It was Christmas Eve, we read from
the Bible and we played music.
I had put on a lot of weight
by the time the war rolled around
World War I that is. Without me
that war wouldn’t have got off the ground.
I won’t brag, cause I’m handicapped.
I’m wired only for sound, not sight.
You’d call me visually impaired
And you know, you’re exactly right.
In my golden years, my pursuits
brought a world of music to you.
I made live drama popular,
did a fair share of preaching too.
Always tried to keep a handle
on current events and the news.
My biggest changes over the years
have been size and battery use.
February 22, 2020
Brian Strand: Strand SELECT Y
On 24 December 1906, the first radio broadcast for entertainment and music was transmitted from Brant Rock, Massachusetts to the general public.
Freedom is a funny thing
Millions go to war over it
As its praises they lustily sing
Mother darkness has descended
The Clouds are forming
The fog sets in
Children are crying
While Syria is dying.
Mother I am so tired of all this suffering
Why, wont these politicians
Stop the waring
Cant they see that its not the world
That is ending but souls are decaying.
Mother I need to write them a love song
Hoping one day
We would all learn to get along
As we all want too belong.
To the melody of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again..."
When Father comes marching home again,
Oh, no! Oh, no!
He'll give me a helluva spanking again,
Oh no! Oh, no!
All the screaming I do
Will never get through
To Father's closed ear,
Cuz it's perfectly clear:
That this
hurts -
him -
more -
than -
It'll ever hurt me,
--Than it'll ever hurt me.
Most of the time
He's a kind man,
My dad, he is.
At work they all say
That he's more than ok
Hurray! Hurray!
But when I do something wrong
It doesn't take long
For him to turn
On a slow burn
And take off his belt
To give me a pelt
On the back of my seat,
So I can't sit down for a week---
Yet it
hurts -
him -
more -
than
It'll ever hurt me.
--Than it'll ever hurt me.
Now I'm a new dad,
I've got me a son,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
I only hope that he'll not
Call me father, but 'Pa;'
Oh, 'pa!' Oh, 'pa!'
So I gotta be strong when he does wrong
Not raise my hand and keep my belt on
Cuz
then
it' -
ll -
ne -
ver
Ever hurt him or hurt me.
It'll never hurt him or hurt me.
If only you knew
the plight of refugee children in Congo
you would spare that lipstick money
and clothe them with it
If only you knew
the hunger biting refugee children in South Sudan
you would spare that money for a bottle of beer
and feed them with it
If only you knew
the education hunger for refugee children in Africa
you would spare that coin for watching soccer
and give them fees
If only you knew
the level of injustice of refugee children in camps
you would sit down and talk good governance
and save the suffering innocent
If only you knew
the potency of refugee children for Africa’s future
you would throw away your guns
and make truly everlasting peace
Leaders of Africa, let your tears roll for those bony ones
swollen with pride let your heads burst, those half-dead creatures
you have the powers to stop refugee chaos
but you bite your lips in protest
Let peace reign in your hearts brother leaders, let peace reign
that children may happily chase butterflies in bushes of Africa
Blood of the innocent flow, flow, flow
Innocent children cry, cry, cry endless
humanity has lost love in the land of love
The Eden of past times with honeycomb
now replaced with gardens of cruel bees
Humanity has lost love in the land of love
This land with no river banks to cross over
now all climbing up, up, up to dark cloud
Humanity has lost love in the land of love
This land of uncertainty of sleeping Moses
Last card strong and alive is hope, hope
Let us all sing and praise God the deliverer
War in Africa, in Afghanistan, war in Syria
War in hearts, war in minds, war in speeches
Stop it, bind wounds and love, you creatures
Things my grandfather told me, now I see
Humanity has lost love in this land of love
Sing me the song, the children sing
when everyone sings along
you know the one, the children sing
it's a happy, happy song
if you sing with me
we can share the tune
then everyone joins in
then you'll know too soon
we forget all the problems
of the world outside
forget there' a reason
that we all have to hide
the war has turned
our green land black
they say a thousand years
before it comes back
so let's sing a song
to help us forget
that war helps no one
just adds to regret
THE BATTLE
He went to fight a war
Just a lad,days before ;
Dismayed by what he saw,
Never the same,anymore
He became a sad recluse,
Living backwards,his excuse;
Hope for him,had no use,
Trust co-twined,a fragile truce
In outlook,so morose
Thoughts,held to himself,
Emotions,buttoned close,
Private and lachrymose
Inside a voice he heard,
This thought,became a word;
Understanding's nativity
In his heart flew free
Turning back,he turned around
Perspective,he then found;
The tunnel had a light..
Another would lead his fight
re post inspired by Constance contest
A poet's flowing poems uplift the souls
of men and sing of legends small and great,
of knights and lords, of fiefdoms, and of fate,
of kings, and pontiffs in ungodly roles!
Long, long ago, these popes, desiring control,
enjoined the knights to charge; and penetrate
their Christ's Jerusalem to decimate
the infidels and caliphs of dark Sheol!
When wanton rulers pillage and plunder, poets
write and sing of their wicked, immoral acts,
betrayals, carnage, and cabals; tho' it's
wiser to just ignore these damning facts,
let poets instead make them known, so it's
repaid by poetic justice's attacks.
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