“Dead man stew”

Dead man stew

A Poem by Coyote Poetry


When greed and hate run the world. Our leaders are making a dead man stew. No-one will victor.


                                 Dead man stew

Poor man is dying.
Was still swimming in the illusion of youth.
He whispered to me. Words I would not forget.
“Allah la ilah.”

I watched and assisted moving the bodies being stored in a frozen storage containers.
Forgotten men with names whispered by Family and friends.
Death Valley left the sand bright red.
A once great country learn.
Dead man don’t rise up my friend.

The barbarians came and showed the world how strong and powerful they are.
They smiled and celebrated great victory.

I stood in the Iraq desert.
I could hear the whispers of lost spirits.
Nothing is over. Nothing is over.

A warmonger cried for more blood.
Darkness and contempt take over my heart.
I wish the leaders who demand war over peace.
Bombs over gift of water, food and medicine.
Would they send their children to the darkness of war?

Newly risen hate is rebirth is places where death is the norm.
Powerful men kill woman and children without thoughts.
Blood creates the need for more blood.
When a nation had nothing left but a good death.
Expect a fight till you are dead and the meek will finally win.

Dead poets once wrote.
“War is man’s sin.”
“Sad to watch something that was alive become dead.”

I’m told we fight terrorist. Threats to our borders.
The barbarians will travel 5,000 miles and portrait the people in their own country
as terrorist.

I believe a terrorist is where you are standing.
150,000 soldiers from another land destroying cities and setting up governments on your land.
The people of the country know.
The armies are the terrorist.
I do understand.

If you kill my child and wife.
I would revenge too.
If I have nothing to live for.
I will kill my enemy till death take me home.
Nothing is over. Nothing is over.

We need leaders who can read history.
If you want to stop violence.
Quit sending guns.
Place embargo on weapons and items of destruction.

Send food, water and medicine.
How many poor men and woman will die for the greed of war?
Middle East is very old.
Old ways and standard not understand by the barbarians.
Can’t change the old places.
Allow them to control their own destiny.

Please leave Syria alone.
Shooting bombs into old cities.
Killing woman and children.
You are not the peacekeeper.
You are the dealer of death.

Allah la ilah.
Nothing is over. Nothing is over.

Weak leader are create a dead man stew.
Where everyone will lose in the end.


© 2013 Coyote Poetry