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Ninus Nestorovic

The war is a cultural event for us, because we die with a song on our lips!

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Sonnet: Scattered are the War-clouds

Perhaps the war got called off, just for now;
But anyway, ’tis such a great relief;
And why to ponder or to wrinkle brow?
Of time, lives, property, war is a thief!

Who wants a war that turns out quite costly?
Who will invite economic disaster?
Who wants a full-scale nuclear war firstly?
Most modern wars are precise and faster.

But what to do if the foe never relents,
And keeps irking us by a proxy war;
Our army-men must live always in tents,
And watch the enemy moves from afar.

’Tis one man’s frenzy causing woe to all;
The world should see that such leaders should fall.

7-3-2002 by Dr John Celes

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The War for Peace!

The world that is moving fast
With its haste people
Forgetting
The moral diction and ethics
That used to be the verse of humanity
Non-violence and forgiveness are lost
Leaving chaos and bedlam to mushroom
And prosper,
What an ironic lectern
The people are walking on
For the sake of peace
Indulging themselves at the battlefield
An unending war for peace is on,
Countries muscling each-other
For they want to cater peace
Extremists brief there own reasons
For the prey,
The War for peace!
Isn’t it hypocrisy at its peak?

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Memorial Day For The War Dead

Memorial day for the war dead. Add now
the grief of all your losses to their grief,
even of a woman that has left you. Mix
sorrow with sorrow, like time-saving history,
which stacks holiday and sacrifice and mourning
on one day for easy, convenient memory.

Oh, sweet world soaked, like bread,
in sweet milk for the terrible toothless God.
"Behind all this some great happiness is hiding."
No use to weep inside and to scream outside.
Behind all this perhaps some great happiness is hiding.

Memorial day. Bitter salt is dressed up
as a little girl with flowers.
The streets are cordoned off with ropes,
for the marching together of the living and the dead.
Children with a grief not their own march slowly,
like stepping over broken glass.

The flautist's mouth will stay like that for many days.
A dead soldier swims above little heads
with the swimming movements of the dead,
with the ancient error the dead have
about the place of the living water.

A flag loses contact with reality and flies off.
A shopwindow is decorated with
dresses of beautiful women, in blue and white.
And everything in three languages:
Hebrew, Arabic, and Death.

A great and royal animal is dying
all through the night under the jasmine
tree with a constant stare at the world.

A man whose son died in the war walks in the street
like a woman with a dead embryo in her womb.
"Behind all this some great happiness is hiding."

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The War Inside Me

The war inside me is very hard.I live every day inside my war.My war is diffacult.It is dark inside me.I live in the saddows.In my war i win and lose.It is an uphill battle for me.

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The War Is Coming

Sitting and waiting
for the war to begin
we know it's coming
it's just a matter of when

We can change our minds
but we can't change the man

The man
with the built in mechanism
to destroy all that he can

The war is coming

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The War In You

Stealing is wrong,
But try to give out what you have in order to help someone else;
For you spent 99 days in Agege and someone else spent 99 years in prison.
Stop the war in you and do the right thing always,
For that which was sweet is now sour! !
But let your 'no' be 'no' and your 'yes' be 'yes',
And respecting others rights benefits you and as well as them.

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Question The War...

when they bring you the body
of your son draped in a flag for burial...
and you read his last letter, again and again.
when he talked about fear, and doubt...
not knowing why anymore,
not knowing if he was doing the right thing,
not knowing if anything was right...
and the faces of women and children
that left him sleepless...
will it be only then,
that you question the war?

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The War King

War above the clouds,
War below the earth,
The War King rules this land.

This strife has gone on for too long,
So a Band of warriors has come,
The War King rules this land.

War and strife,
Anger and hate,
The War King rules this land.

When the warriors come,
There will be death,
The War King rules this land.

The War King rules this land no more,
The wars are over,
Justice has prevailed.

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Soldier Going To The War

Soldier going to the war--
Will you take my heart with you,
So that I may share a little
In the famous things you do?

Soldier going to the war--
If in battle you must fall,
Will you, among all the faces,
See my face the last of all?

Soldier coming from the war--
Who shall bind your sunburnt brow
With the laurel of the hero,
Soldier, soldier--vow for vow!

Soldier coming from the war--
When the street is one wide sea,
Flags and streaming eyes and glory--
Soldier, will you look for me?

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The War

Strangers are the souls in the world of the wars
The lives cradle somehow between the death and life
They try to survive the hardship of the life the abject truths of life are there with all their ugly faces
The mercy of hearts are extinguished
The spirits at the cruelty of the men got lost
What the eyes sees the heart ignores
Ah strangers are the souls at the winter night they shiver alone
Like wounded birds they are pale ignored
Alone in this world no place for the broken souls
People are selfish their hearts deny to see others pain
Only in the war you can clearly see the simple truths of the world,

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Howard Nemerov

The War In The Air

For a saving grace, we didn't see our dead,
Who rarely bothered coming home to die
But simply stayed away out there
In the clean war, the war in the air.

Seldom the ghosts come back bearing their tales
Of hitting the earth, the incompressible sea,
But stayed up there in the relative wind,
Shades fading in the mind,

Who had no graves but only epitaphs
Where never so many spoke for never so few:
Per ardua, said the partisans of Mars,
Per aspera, to the stars.

That was the good war, the war we won
As if there was no death, for goodness's sake.
With the help of the losers we left out there
In the air, in the empty air.

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The War Machines... (If)

the war machines
of the world,
spend enough money
every eight days,
to feed the hungry
of the world for a year!

what the hell are we thinking?
if we fed the hungry,
housed the homeless,
took care of the sick,
and gave everyone the chance
to work for a fair wage...
what would be left to fight for?

if we taxed the rich,
and brought down the concept
of different classes...
if we learned to consume
only what we really need,
and to put back more
than we take...

if we abolished the strongholds
of religions and nations...
and saw and treated each other
as equals...
if we quit worrying about
outer space, and explored
our inner spaces...
if...

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The War

I saw a war, yet none the trumpet blew,
Nor in their hands the steel-wrought weapons bare;
And in that conflict armed there fought but few,
And none that in the world's loud tumults share;
They fought against their wills,—the stubborn foe
That mail-clad warriors left unfought within,
And wordy champions left unslain below,—
The ravening wolf though drest in fleecy skin;—
They fought for peace,—not that the world can give,
Whose tongue proclaims the war its hands have ceased
And bids us as each other's neighbor live,
Ere haughty Self within us has deceased;
They fought for him whose kingdom must increase,
Good will to men, on earth forever peace.

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Another War Across The War

Your long-ranged missiles,
Perforate
The chest of my days,
The injured sunlight has lost
Its gold.

There is another war
Across the war,
And in between ensued
A brief pause,
That U.N.O insists upon
To call it peace;
In fact
It is a break to make
Fresh arrangements,
To launch another war.

Wars get nourishment
From our bodies,
The boundaries
Are the factories of wars;
I shall neither fight
For monarchy,
Nor for democracy,
Even the sacred armies
Have fallen
From the lashes of my eyes.

I shall only favour
For pace,
I am ashamed of those flowers
And birds who are compelled
To become fodder
Of wars of Man:
The crown of creation.

(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)

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When The War Is Over

When the war is over
Got to get away
Pack my bags to
No place in no time no day
You and i, we used
Each others shoulder
Still so young
But somehow so much older
How can I go home
And not get blown away
Aint nobody gonna
Steal this heart away
When the war is over
Got to start again
Try to hold a trace of
What it was back then
You and i, we shared
Each others stories
Just a page thats
Lost in all its glory
How can I go home
And not get blown away
You and I had our sights
Set on something
Hope this doesnt mean
Our days are numbered
Ive got plans for more
Than a wanted man
All around is chaos and madness
Cant help feeling
Nothing more than sadness
Only choice to face it
The best I can
Aint nobody gonna
Steal this heart away
And not get blown away ...

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THE WAR ON DRUGS June 3rd,2011

The Global Commission on Drug Policy wants to change things around,
We have no alternative they seem to say, but to back down,
It sometimes seems as though we’ve lost the war on illegal drugs,
And instead of being arrested, the druggers should get shrugs.

The Commission wants to stop the war by reducing consumption,
If the people who do the drugs will go along with this presumption,
And if we legalize all drugs, it seems, things might be great,
But I don’t think Ottawa politicians are up for this debate.

This high profile Commission doesn’t want addicts treated as criminals,
Regardless of what drugs they do or what illegal chemicals,
They want the UN involved as though that would make a difference,
There’s probably no organization in the world more indifferent.

June 3rd 2011

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We've Not Learned From War History The Facts Never Lie

We've not learned from war history the facts never lie
For God and for Country many still fight and die
The flowers do not bloom brighter on the dead soldier's grave
As the one who died of old age and was not known to be brave.

With the words we've not learned from war history
I happen to be one of those who agree
One war leads to another it does seem to me
And we still have War Memorial day in the twenty first century.

Where there is mistrust between people hatred come to the boil
In war over borders and war over oil
And in wars over God far too many have died
To antiquated thinking many do remain tied.

Out of war and it's suffering many heroes are made
And to honour the war dead another parade
And for as long as those who glorify war do have things their own way
The flower of peace will never see light of day.

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After The War

For those that are able
To go underground
Missiles disenable
They hit faster than sound
Theyre coming and you have no choice
The helpless with one human foice
That will categorically say
This underdog will have his day
One more dead is one more than it ought to be
A travesty
One more missed will be kissed to eternity
Or purgatory
After the war
Red button hes pressing
But he knows not why
Hes programming orders
War lights up the sky
Hes on the hotline tonight
His mind is high as a kite
His fingers decide wrong or right
This man has it all in his sights
Used as tools to believe in autonomy
Minorities are no more
Men are fools, one last cry to humanity
No sanity any more
After the war
On my arm, a tattoo for my sons to be
That numbers you and me
Theres a scar on my face
That is photographed for all to see
After the war

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The President Of War

With hair dyes and face lifts he covers his wrinkles and gray
The War President is in retirement today
In his beautiful home with his loyal and attractive wife
One of the very privileged minority enjoying the good life.

The President of War known to be guilty of lying
In the wars he created people still suffering and dying
But the Karma he has sown for himself he will receive
Though on such people like him are not known to believe.

To his sort of person human life is cheap
But the Karma we sow is the Karma we will reap
The war mothers grieve at the graves of their dead
Of them years of grieving and sorrow ahead.

What goes around comes around as some like to say
And the President of War for his sins will pay
Because of him many poor mothers for their dead children grieve
And the Karma he has sown for himself he will receive.

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On The War

The war, and exhibition of human shreds,
A show of skulls, flesh, blood and bones,
A bestial game, turning men into beasts,
And abhorrent spot on the fair forehead,
A dance of death with the exploding,
Music of blasts and thundering of canons,
For fond glories, and vain victories,
For a piece of land or contradicting creed.

A field where aggression pretends righteous,
Where Carnage and Greed the twin sisters,
Always indiscriminate to false or fair,
Ravage about with roaring howls,
Upon the hapless weak innocence,
Who being offended vainly defends.
Oh Man!
Change not the world into inferno,
Forbear patiently the existence,
Of fellows infesting upon the Earth,
Intrude no the limits of liberty,
Fixed to breath with solace and ease,
For tactics are ripe to the culmination,
Slight recklessness might result in havoc,
Leaving behind neither winner nor loser.

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