time passes as the river flows from whence it comes to where it goes cutting a pathway leaving scars in its wake once passed we cannot return in the beginning from birth forced through cracks from a trickle great steams grow going with the flow as time passes great rivers are master sculptors seeking new horizons forging into the unknown until at days end all rivers merge no second chances all the while time passes
In this month of November, and the 11th just passed, when we remember the fallen, lets give pause for thought, to the boys forced to become men before their time …. where we as a society discard our best and brightest to senseless conflicts. The hopes and disappointments of generations of young (mostly) men/boys are always dashed at the altar of political expedience and greed.
The article contains many of the poems that I have written about War …and its impact on my life, when I was forced to serve ….
Read and remember ….
“Nonintervention does not mean that nothing happens.
It means that something else happens.”
Christopher Hitchens
On this day when we remember the fallen, lets gave pause for thought, to the boys forced to become men, to become killers. In silent contemplation, I at times shout out to my silence; why do we discard our best and brightest to senseless conflicts. The hopes and disappointments of generations of young (mostly) men/boys are always dashed at the altar of political expedience and greed. Young men fighting old men’s wars. The First World War poets have always stuck a deep chord on my soul and I reread the poems and contemplate deeply on the what, why, how and the loss. The poetry of Owen, Rosenberg, Blunden, Gurney and Sassoon are those that I turn to when I need to pause and think, why is this world so fucked up?
Consequently, I have put…
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