“Blood and the wine


Blood and the wine.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

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Life teaches us many things. Sometime we must fight for the good things in our life.

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                       Blood and the wine.

Most of us are just dancing on the edge.
Taking what we need from life and escaping like a thief into the night.

Love and hate is tossed around like a game of Chess.
Where the game was fixed before it was started.
A skill chess player played with their prey.
Before he take their king and their land.

Jesus turn water into wine.
He told us to love the children,
to love each other. We are all brothers and sisters.

Our world swim in blood today.
Everyday a thousand tears for the innocence being murdered.
Brother’s killing brother’s in the Middle East.
Starvation killing millions in Africa.
One in four are going to sleep hungry in the land of milk and honey.

Blood and wine are not the same.
Poor Devil had no job.
The greed of man had left the demons with no function.

I pour the wine. Blood come out.
Hard to understand the desire of man?
We are led by Beserkers.
Desire blood over sweet wine.

I hear the leaders.
Serenading us the blood song.
They tell us. What is done is done.
Need blood for blood. A eye for a eye.

Most people are benumbs by lies.
They believe war is the answer.
When all we have is terror.
What is left of human kindness?

Today a girl of seventeen told me.
Had to escape her country.
Fear of death.
Schools are not safe.
What have we become?

Jesus turn water into wine.
Could Jesus change blood into sweet wine of hope and peace today?

I’m not dead yet and you are alive.
Do you want your child to be a Soldier?
Learning to kill at eighteen before he learn to love and enjoy their life.

I follow my father’s path. I went to war. I saw death.
I’m tire. Tire of war.

Blood and wine is this song.
Need to silence the Berserkers.

A long time ago.
A nice lullaby for us kids.
“Soldiers would not fight.
War ended.”

Jesus loved the children.
He wanted us to know love and how to forgive.
If no-one will turn the other cheek.

The mad men will lead us to a dead-end road.

Old Poet is tire.
He want one day of peace before he is gone.
Not for my sake. For the sake of all children.

Thank you for reading.

Coyote
Jan 2013