Thursday, January 21, 2016

The Justice Machine - by Bob Atkinson

The Justice Machine
(c)2016 Bob Atkinson

they set them up in our town
machines of which we'd heard
their purpose here to end all
violence from written word

swiftly calculating
where bullets came from
then sending one large projectile
toward that bullet's origin

explodes in such a manner
that whoever shot that gun
found himself in heaven rejected
then on a downward run

to lie with those who ruled this world
through violence before parades
teaching us to be sincere
when we our morality display

Friday, January 15, 2016

Message of The Gods - by Bob Atkinson

(c)2016 Bob Atkinson

to say one finds solace
in belief's revelations
sends message to others
truth doesn't matter

we don't respect different
same's our way of life
we have no feeling for
struggles which might

might find good teachings
away from our bunch
no brightness of purpose
that doesn't come from us

we have no respect for
teachings not true
for our life's what matters
not something from you

such callous nature
belies all good truth
when one pooh poohs others
says of their bad mood

they've no sense of values
nothing of use
dump that proposal
dump that attitude

from now on it's "Gods"
not "God" for our use
other names too numerous to mention
adopting all forms of divine intervention

not one god, but many
here in our land
agnostic included
all diverse bands

can say with certainty
we have our good faith
inclusive of others
that's our new page

truth's not in a name
but in humanity's virtue
something missing in
a dogma of untruth

humanity's one
an amalgamation of love
a sense of order
coming from above

removing conflict
suffering and fright
caused by definition
of what's deemed right

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Let Thunder Be Action - by Bob Atkinson

Fare Thee Well Enniskillen
Irish Folk Poem
A beautiful damsel
Of fame and renown
A gentleman's daughter
From Monaghan town

As she went through the barracks
This beautiful maid
Stood up in her coach
To see dragoons on parade.

Fare ye well, Enniskillen,
I must leave you for a while
And all thy fair waters
And Erin's green isle

And when the wars are over,
I'll return in full bloom
And they'll all welcome home
Their Enniskillen dragoons.

They were all dressed up
The like of gentleman's sons
With their bright shining rapiers
And carabine guns

Their bayonets fornemst them,
Oh she saw them full soon
Just because that
She loved an Enniskillen dragoon.

She looked to the bright sons
Of Mars on the right
Their armor outshining
The stars of the night

"O Willie, dearest Willie,
You have 'listed full soon
In the royal,
Loyal Enniskillen dragoons."

"Oh Flora, dearest Flora,
Your pardon I crave
Both now and forever,
You know I am your slave

But your parents they have slighted me,
Morning, night, and noon
Just because that you loved
Your Enniskillen dragoon."

"Oh Willie, dearest Willie,
Head not what they say
For children their parents
Must always obey

And when you've left Ireland,
They'll soon change their tune
Sayin' 'The good Lord be wi'
Ye, Enniskillen dragoon'."

Our troop was made ready
at the dawn of the day
From lovely Enniskillen
they were marching us away.

They put us then on board a ship
to cross the raging main,
To fight in bloody battle
in the sunny land of Spain.

Fare thee well Enniskillen,
fare thee well for a while
And all around the borders
of Erin's green isle;

And when the war is over
we'll return in full bloom
And you'll all welcome home
the Enniskillen Dragoons.

Oh Spain it is a gallant land
where wine and ale flow free
There's lots of lovely women
there to dandle on your knee

And often in a tavern there
we'd make the rafters ring
When every soldier in the house
would raise his glass and sing

Well we fought for Ireland's glory there
and many a man did fall
From musket and from bayonet
and from thundering cannon ball

And many a foeman we laid low,
amid the battle throng
And as we prepared for action
you would often hear this song

Well now the fighting's over
and for home we have set sail,
Our flag above this lofty ship
is fluttering in the gale:

They've given us a pension boys
of fourpence each a day
And when we reach Enniskillen
never more.we'll have to say.

Fare thee well Enniskillen,
fare thee well for a while
And all around the borders
of Erin's green isle;

And when the war is over
we'll return in full bloom
And you'll all welcome home
the Enniskillen Dragoons.

Let Thunder Be Action
(c)2016 Bob Atkinson

before, you never saw in your heart
that open convention of which you were part
seems in your past life some disarray
solved here on parade ground today

yes, this uniform so tailored
as if you were king
gives feeling, belonging
your heart on display

so further you can go
to death's large black door
a trip worth the effort
no question of mores

your weapon's not loaded
matters not in this march
they'll give you large bullets
when battle's a part

of your duty hereafter
your body's a target
in struggle of nations
to mangle their art

to force will on others
for purpose or not
or rejecting an action
of satan's forward march

you feel in your duty
a force so arrayed
that you can go to heaven
if only for days

then on to a hot place
where all who have sinned
find solace in heartbeats
and their friend's grins

where fires surround you
for ever again
while you break rocks
with a mallet of sin

back then when you marched
you thought good forced your way
was only a thought
you fast put away

then forward you struggled
to find victory's parade
which left you so saddened
no crowds to display

your finest of step
and weakness of heartbeat
a trip through a grotto
of nervous departure

a bright light above you
to guide your parade
let thunder be action
here on death's day

so, here's to brave soldiers
who never will fall
give meaning to country
and all they can call

purpose for efforts
both large and quite small
to sadden hereafter
all who'd not fallen

those with good memories
of pride on display
those who march bravely
into disarray

those who gained feeling
of gentleness of heart
killing those who felt misery
a normal world part

Friday, January 8, 2016

The Twisted World - by Bob Atkinson

The Twisted World
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

have seen stock market down again
but why, wherefore and when
does this time mean something else
or just another banded graph

something's strange on Swiss soil
that machine of enormous toil
which sends around in circles a
magnetic form of disarray

a field of which we know not much
powerful, yes, but opens us
to unknown characters in our universe
something here's unusual, perverse

a circuitous track which matter's parts
circle with what's not sought
that fabric torn to disjointed space
causing us ever to contemplate

those ideas and processes which
could destroy our matrix mix
winding up our universe
total progress held in reverse

not only do these protons go
around this track in zippy flow
but that thing we call our world
twists around like tops on whirl

what manner of default ensues
don't know, can't see, but does amuse
to see our world fall apart
causes wonder if all's a result

stock market? countries dying deaths?
people starving, world's a mess
related these events of time
to this machine of man's design?

can't tell from this vantage point
but got my eye on your performance
do you tear fabric of
space arranged for human love?

if you do, please stop this action
for myself, and humanity's satisfaction
don't want more chaos to ensue
my opinion, me to you