"Mine Fair Love Tis Gone,"
"Who are the Heroes."
Song playing: Red Hot Chile Peppers, "Otherside"
by Gary Jacobson © 2003
Pride, can be a wonderfully good and worthy virtue
One ally all great warrior's diligently pursue
coupled with hopeful optimism, confidence in ability
Joined with ground-based humility
But carried too far, pride can become a sin, a liability.
For Pride, tis said, cometh just before the fall
Leading immaculate warriors to life’s bitterest gall
Drawn to those mighty men who answer the call
Bearing sanctimonious piety high and mightier than all
Bravely...cocksure...proudly...
Little gods looking at life arrogantly
Bearing above-it-all attitudes disdainfully
Smug know-it-alls better than all the rest
With a self-righteous conceit easy to detest
Bearing pride’s impregnable will fancied undefeatable
Truly believing their hallowed right inviolable
Truly believing their might in the fight invincible
Always called to duty to right wrongs impeachable
Carrying with them airs haughtily...
Demeanors insolently...superciliously
Left destitute, alone, dying in body or spirit, after all
Mid graying smoke pits of hell’s burning pall.
Many wars are caused by spiteful Envy
Perpetuated by outlandishly sheer brevity
Petty, possessive, green-eyed jealousy
Empire makers reaping discontent’s tragedy
Like the bully in the sandbox
Making trouble backed into Pandora's box
Led by the pompously dictatorial few
Avowed envies seeking a neighbors possessions too
Forgoing a nation's peaceful view
Groveling and stewing in fits till they have it all
Oblivious to what might to warriors in battle befall
Living with bitter desires lament
Casting brickbats at others in pseudo resentment
Showing bold covetousness
For qualities of another grown insanely desirous
For rights to others possessions precious
Always to embattled judgment rushing
Taking by force very life begrudging
Hurting without caring maliciously
Ill will cankerously prompting actions callously
Unthinking of minions in battle's catastrophe
Uncaring of any outside the greater, me!
Gluttony paints precocious peacocks pretentiously
Piggishly plundering prettily
Souls adorning
Who find in the fight a feast fulfilling
Very violence becoming a holy chapel of reflection
A grand cathedral for sacred war’s conception
Growing appetites meat for conquering
Finding great sport in unsatiated killing
Killing done gaudily, wildly, ravenously
Force, of course, used garishly
Rapaciously...excessively...ostentatiously
Laced loud with intemperate volume’s voracity
Joyfully taking from neighbors fruits of their labors
Pugnacious "the world owes me a living" alligators
Overindulging in divine glories feast of extravagance
Harboring sickness born of indulgent crapulence
Just because they can...living in inane decadence.
Feeding its glory, truly
Loving war unequivocally.
The sin of Lust conquers nations
Destroying before it all mankind’s creations
Born of overwhelming cravings for power
That cannot-be-denied hunger
Promoting longing...a thirst...an itch
Mortal man cannot this itch scratch
Yearnings magically souls bewitch
Hatreds inspiring by the midnight fire
Bestial man will carnally sire
Craven his wicked desire
Provoking undeniably evil appetites
Ruling over good national attributes
The wicked will win at all costs
No matter devastations holocausts.
Vile Anger is a most volatile sin
Roiling without peace or pity within
Fueling uncontrollably tempestuous fires
Delightsome in seething bloodthirsty desires
Burning anger promoting more anger
Hatred engendering more hatred
Violence begetting more violence
Never ending cycles of hatred borne passionately
Frothing in the pot stirred quickly
Boiling constant displeasure in hostility
Enraged internal churning outward enmities provoke
Bad feelings surging umbrage invoke
Rancorous revenge from the soul uncloak
Stirring fomenting ill wills bubbling
Concocting raucous indignation’s ire stewing
Hearts filled with malignant bitterness brewing.
Greed tis indeed a virulently noxious seed
Causing very nations to bleed. our very creed
Planted through deception’s lies
Before desirous, conquering eyes
Greedily on bounteous riches bore
Its bloody harvest the very cause of war
Greedy dictums see only conquests bold
Possessions reaped for lands and gold
Young men but old men’s pawns
Been that way for thousands of dawns
Calling the young to win cankered battle rife
Our young finding in war prevailing strife
In war’s wicked gain the politician enthralls
N’er mind the young facing abundant pitfalls
Youth bartered for immoderate decadence
Wanton wastrels offer with silvered words greediness
Motivated by material gain in unthrifty avarice.
Slothful beings adopt action's inaction found in sheer laziness
Letting others do all the work, in truth’s essence
The slothful really are an established art form
Deviating far afield from the industrious norm
Continuing this lazy obsession to profusion
Finding comfort in a slothful style an aberration
Extravagant laziness that cares not for who gets hurt
Fiddling in municipal palaces as others bleed in the dirt
This lavishly unthrifty scoundrel
In every way to mankind obscenely wasteful
Works only for ways to increase his slothful days
By whose reckless actions millions get killed
And the shocked world somehow is dismayed
Falling time and time again for his bedeviled
Slothful nature appalled.
by Gary Jacobson © 2003
Mine fair love fallen, hast from mine side gone.
Oh sing thee now, thine sad and mournful song.
Grieve ye now, sad and mournful, for love so true
Passed on now into war's grave blackened hue.
Oh sing thee now of tragic wrong
Oh sing of greater love for forever I’ll long.
Hear thee the depth of mine saddened soul ring
A funeral dirge, to mine loves sweetest death sing.
Sing to lost love, fallen far, far away,
For whose tempest tossed soul, I can but now pray
Cursing now, that most dreadful beast
That ogre mine love rode to this killing feast.
Duty left him moldering under alien ground
Now silent in peace, soft, nary a sound.
Oh where again can I wearily start
Born death of hope, of very heart
For mine love tis gone, mine life
Lost he for whom I sang life’s sweetest songs rife.
We planned the rest of our lives in love’s grand wealth
Before war came stealing with calculating stealth
Before fated death
Sprouted its carnally, evil breath
Killing the source from whence very life doth spring
Morbid despair forever to bring.
War bears naught but cold-hearted fruits of death
Sprouting fire and tempests carnally, evil breath
O’er love lost far beyond where setting sun gathers
Upon a nation’s lovers, brothers, sons, fathers
Killing the source from whence very life doth spring
Morbid despair forever and a day to bring.
Now mine sweet love fallen, forever from mine side gone.
Oh sing thee now, thine sad and mournful song.
Having destroyed asunder what might have been...
Should have been...
If it had not been...
For the inhumanity of men to men.
by Gary Jacobson © 2003
Who are the true heroes
Contending with special bravery as battles rage?
Who win the victor’s wage?
Who are these youth shouldering dying’s primeval age
Walking the park rife with shadows
Cast by freedom’s foes
Wearing hatred enshrouded by frenzied aggression
Who built pent up feelings in animosity’s passion
Chafed by despair without respite in spiritual turmoil
Who acrimoniously fume...embattled moil?
Who are the true heroes?
Is it they who show honor in sacrosanct duty
Devotion cloaked with honor naturally
Distinctively
Who roll up their sleeves to embrace freedom’s enmity
Fighting tragic wrong, n'er shirking
They who answered proudly their nation's calling
Who go into the hellish maw
Innocently offering up inviolable all
Absorbing war’s fateful schizophrenia
Reliving daily irascibility’s mania?
Who are the true heroes?
Who willingly sacrifice themselves to save a brother
Left behind home, way of life, father...mother
Facing eminent demise at behest of fateful breath
Wielding the scepter of righteousness till sweet death
Extinction hovering in clouds battlefields over shrouding
Constantly overhead, fire and smoke about him camouflaging
Riding war’s bestial ogre till the full accounting?
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