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Roltrot Diconline Poem
I hail from a bombed out sanctuary,
And from the survivors of genocide
Who had the courage to run
Where none of my people had run before.
I hail from the underground safe haven,
Built by a laborer dubbed “unskilled” by the public.
From the haven that aided so many, then fell,
But with it’s chin held high
And it’s seeds planted deep in the earth.
So deep in fact,
That one day,
A solitary soul might look upon said haven and think
If only…
I hail from babies that cry in the night,
And from mothers,
Praying that the cries will not stop,
Not tonight…
I hail from the sweat on the brow,
Of a teenage farmer
As he grips his trusted shovel,
stares into the sun,
And tells himself
Just one more hour...
I hail from musicians in the dark,
And from the ebonies and ivories into which they poured their souls,
Filling a mold
That all descendants now fill as well.
I hail from the sweat of my people,
Gathering in puddles on the floor as they work to feed their families,
The air choked with the smell of Italian leather
Greased to perfection with the perspiration of the hardest workers
This world has ever seen.
I hail from the marriage of the secret gardener and the keeper of calendars,
From the brotherhood of the brain and the brawn.
But more than that,
I hail from efforts to make the world a better place,
One $3.50 cut at a time…
Copyright © Roltrot Diconline | Year Posted 2009
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Roltrot Diconline Poem
Why have I come here today?
Was it not to seek refuge from the chaotic collapse of our world?
Was it not to leap aboard the bandwagon and live forever in harmony, that is before the
earth is lost?
But why? Why must our families grieve at the sight of us “lost”?
Why must we depart from our dearly beloved earth today?
Why leave? ‘Tis a beautiful world…
But alas, we must follow him until the end of the world,
Ignoring all consequences of our departure into the land of those who are “lost”.
Yet still I wonder, why must we leave today?
‘Tis an odd feeling, to find I’ve lost the world today…
Copyright © Roltrot Diconline | Year Posted 2009
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Roltrot Diconline Poem
A tester of limits,
he reaches beyond
all that resembles
a tie or a bond
to the life whence he came,
and the center he held.
He leaves before sunrise,
character swelled.
With self as his compass,
and mind as his map,
through wood he doth journey,
takes bait from the trap.
A matter of months,
and freedom’s been reached,
beautiful blueberries,
immunity breached.
Copyright © Roltrot Diconline | Year Posted 2009
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Roltrot Diconline Poem
Today he reigns.
But, was it not one hundred years ago
that he would have suffered the crack of the whip
gripped firmly in the white man’s oppressive fist?
Was it not one hundred years ago that he would have felt the sun’s white hot rays
beating down upon his back,
previously torn to pieces by the “justice” of that same man’s belt?
But today,
today we forget what we,
“we the people”,
once called an ordinary existence.
Today we consign the past to oblivion
and rise up to meet the many challenges
that have divided us as a nation for oh so long.
Today is the day
that we,
not I,
not you,
not he, not she, not them,
but WE,
we step forward and feel within our grasp,
the absolute solidity of the first rung on a ladder
called CHANGE.
Copyright © Roltrot Diconline | Year Posted 2009
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Roltrot Diconline Poem
Come,
remember with me
the day that brother fought brother,
the bodies piled high
behind the false security of the stone divisions
drawn through the heartland.
But when the fighting ceased,
all that remained
was a flag on the grave
of every brother slaughtered in the name of unity.
Now,
recall with me
the day that we united
in hopes of saving our friends from certain doom.
And though the world was at their aid
70,000,000 fell
to the greatest evil the world has known.
But the tides turned
and the end was reached.
Now all that remains
is a flag on the grave of every friend
slain in the name of world peace.
Come,
recapture with me
the day that we fought for our country
but fought in vain.
Time and time again we tried,
be it foul or fair,
but to no avail.
We prayed for our children
“please come home alive”,
and now
all that remains
is a flag on the grave of every son
murdered,
and why?
Now,
turn your eyes from the horrors of the past,
and rather,
look upon the sweet memories of our brothers,
friends,
and sons.
Memories of the days
long before the magnetic appeal of falsely promised heroism
that tore us apart.
The days in which we knew,
despite whatever hardship that might rear it’s ugly head and stumble upon us
from the farthest reaches of the unknown,
these men died for the betterment of the world,
and now,
let not the flags on the graves remind you of your lost loved ones,
but rather the sacrifices they made
for peace,
always for peace.
Copyright © Roltrot Diconline | Year Posted 2009
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