Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

an older poem that I think I finally finished...

Confessions from the Cyclical Cyclone

We must confess

We’re so loyal to oil we support wars we don’t believe in
Killing and maiming while claiming to free them
And my reply comes shining like some sort of liberal beacon
Drawing and waving signs like “love and peace man”
Imprinting them proudly on my face
arm
and chest
would have saved more lives buying bullet proof vests
but did I invest?
no, I flee from the west
hoping to find my peace in the east.

I must confess

sometimes I get stopped at the door,
Confused and slightly distressed
when Instead of pushing, I pull it
And I know a lot of you got confused
with Bush and his bull shit
but the real world spins in cycles
just like a top
more like the revolving door
and when it starts it don’t stop
so a bomb we drop
on one side spreads
the panic and fear
and soon enough you know
we feel that destruction right here

the cycle spins

We drop the bombs saying,
We must kill them before they kill us.
But each bomb splinters families
And causes kids to want to cause a fuss

The cycle spins

Old men who’s lives destroyed by our bombs
learn to want nothing but revenge.
and when they strap explosives to their chests,
we prepare to avenge.

The cycle spins

we say their people can go to hell
for what they did to us on 9/11
but we have sent 50 times as many
innocent Iraqi casualties to heaven

The cycle spins

We must confess

We lost our patience and
jumped upon perceived foes,
our frustration never satisfied,
and for some in fact it grows
as our leaders corrupt with power,
replace each enemy with another
manufacturing our consent
with fear of “the other.”
The other cant learn to turn her cheek
Its burned or depleted through starvation
And still we claim its only justice
When we launch invasions into
the homes of foreign nations.