Posted: 11/16/00
Author: Jay / carboxylated@yahoo.com
Archive: Gundam Wing Addiction (Tyr), Desolation Angels (Ashura, if she wants it)
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Title: War Song [poem]
Category: Poem
Timeline: AU, accompanying 'War Song' (the story)
Rating/Warning: I don't think I can really attempt to rate it... But it's depressing. I mean, God, it goes with the fic. Warning enough, right there.
Feedback: Craved, desired, wanted, coveted, yearned for, wished for, and longed for. C&C will be repaid with dancing G-boys, my endless adoration, as well as a nice slice of karma.
Note: Ugh. I am so-- well, for the lack of a proper adjective-- *so* seasonal affective, but too lazy to write real angst.
We sent our boys off to war with no kisses,
And watched with fervent earnest to hear of causalities;
Breathed simple sighs of relief-- we saw them on TV screens:
No. we never considered their snapping sanity.They fight, believe all that we believe,
And stitch together the fragile song of war,
(And little boys will not weep, merely aim for enemies)
As we throw down humanity to raise up a whore.We save the newspapers that mention their names,
We tune in to news stations in a national game,
We tear the flag by the seams,
And Death slips into little boys' dreams.We sent our boys off to war with no blessings,
And set down our sacrifice on the altar of nonsanctity,
After all, they had their machines-- they were only fifteen:
Grasping to find what their lives truly mean.And in the waxing glow of media praise,
We grin with primordial pride, denial in the altruistic,
We pass along the same crusade clichés,
Our boys: mere black and white statistics.
The End
Obligatory Disclaimer: Git your paws off! ::grins:: Yeah, I'm going to have a problem with people stealing my poetry. Riiiiiiiggght. But, in any case, this is needlessly © 2000 by the author, who is incidentally Jay.
...
I had a bad day?
Like, get a 65 on an exam I should have aced bad day?
Like, spiraling into self-doubt, self-pity, self-hatred, self-loathing, self-something bad day?
Like, mindlessly infatuated and regressing back to adolescent pining bad day?
Like--
Heh. I'll stop. I feel better. I just need to wallow a little and, uhm, ::vague hand gestures:: you know. Call a doctor. Or a brothel. Or something.
Jay
Please send comments to: carboxylated@yahoo.com