Where are the heroes that are rising from the earth?

Where are the youth who have ignored the truth?

The heroes and youth are no longer brave,

The truth is dead and buried in graves.

And ghosts of our ancestors are crying, crying, crying.

The truth is no longer remembered or respected.

And each of us prepares for civil war,

No longer do we listen like we did before.

We hear our own words and cut other words short.

And ghosts of our fathers come marching, marching, marching.

There are rumors of blood being shed in the hills,

There are dreams of street battles just for the thrills.

There are fingers poised to blast away,

Neighbors and relatives killed if they get in the way.

And the hearts of our fathers are bleeding, bleeding, bleeding.

We could be the heroes that are rising from the earth,

We could be the ones who respect the truth.

It will be our blood that will stain the soil,

Until our hatred ceases to boil.

And our ghosts are satisfied with

Crying, crying, crying

bleeding, bleeding, bleeding

marching, marching, marching.

Dying. dying, dying.

The ghosts will be satisfied when all is quiet and still.

September 24, 2017

Dan Roberson


“Where Are the Superheroes?”

Joker (comics)
Image via Wikipedia

I’ve always enjoyed the superheroes,

Someone to come and save the day,

Whenever there was trouble brewing,

They knew what to do and what to say,

I admired them because they stood for justice,

They protected man, woman, and child,

Evil was always stopped and punished,

It was never allowed to just run wild,

But while a child the world was my own,

In my imagination I was big and strong,

Evil was given no chance to stick around,

 I could change anything that went wrong,

As I grew older I could see the world needed heroes,

For few walked among us helping the abused,

And sometimes, to make matters even worse,

The heroes were there among those accused,

I determined that I would do my very best,

And as a parent I was a superhero for just a while,

But only because my children believed in me,

I could wipe away tears and bring back a smile,

But I could not rescue them from the trauma of divorce,

Nor could I keep the outside world from coming in,

I tried, but the world had found my kryptonite,

And I was doomed to watch the Joker’s grin,

Discouragement, doubt, I was powerless in time’s grasp,

The glitter of the world took my children from my side,

I could not protect them and keep them from pain,

They were being pulled away from shore by an awful tide,

They made their mistakes but found their way back,

But they had changed as much as changed can be,

 No longer were they naïve and innocent,

It was even worse, they were more like me,

I’m not a superhero, that is plain to see,

Evil forces are there and I cannot hold them back,

I’ve found that I can’t even rescue myself,

Many times I’ve tried, but there are powers I lack,

I must confess I’m under stress, to see the world so torn,

Where are the superheroes that will show to save the day?

Are they just imaginary like those in my childhood world?

Or must we all be heroes to keep from falling under evil’s sway?

The Three Visions

World vision.
Image via Wikipedia

 I’ve been having visions that fill my night,

The past and the future, each was an awesome sight,

But the present time, as the world was displayed,

Much was in disorder, I was terribly dismayed,

The First Vision:  The Past

Caretakers were here since time began,

Preparing a place for woman and man,

Their wings whirring, whirring, stirring the air,

Each molecule and atom placed with care,

Frolicking in the new oceans and streams,

Rowdy by day, but tiptoeing through dreams,

Tending the flower gardens day and night,

Patchworks of color everywhere in sight,

Setting in motion perfect harmony,

Rhythms of earth, the heavens, and sea,

These caretakers were angels selected,

Keeping the world from being neglected,

There was plenty of space for sounds of life,

All was peaceful and calm, there was no strife,

Vision Two:  The Present

Then the earth was given to mankind,

A present to see if we could find,

All the secrets that were hidden in the air,

And beneath the waters everywhere,

The world took on human face and form,

In my vision everything seemed norm,

A beautiful woman, young and fair,

Skin shining and smooth, she had lustrous hair

I should have warned her but I could not speak,

As mankind approached, his conscience weak,

He raped and beat her, left her for dead,

Scarred and bleeding, hair ripped from her head,

The angels watched in horror as she met disgrace,

But there was much more that took place,

 She was kicked and stabbed while still down,

And left lying there, helpless, on the ground,

I was stunned until I saw her changing again,

The world reappeared, her wounds were plain,

She had rips and scars, Areas full of trash,

She had been exploited and ravaged, all for cash,

Vision Three:  The Future

The world had been cleaned of garbage and filth,

Mankind was trying to improve her health,

Her wounds were treated, her nutrients restored,

She was healing nicely, and not ignored,

The angels had returned to ease the way,

In charge of keeping evil at bay,

The world needed heroes to stand and be strong,

To protect her from the greedy who would do her wrong,

The world needs poets who will write and shout,

We can no longer be silent while the world cries out.

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