Pacifist Poetry

A repost from August 6, 2009

(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

Roses are red, Violets are blue
Please don’t shoot at me, and I won’t shoot at you

You claim you’re a follower of heaven’s own lamb
But your claim’s not convincing with your AK in hand
The flag that’s your glory’s own stripes stand for blood
But not blood that saves - blood was shed for what good?

On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer, and Vixen
On Roosevelt, Truman, and Johnson and Nixon
On Clinton and Bush I, Bush II and Barrack
Warmongering psychopaths, hmmm, the whole lot

Endless propaganda, from the cradle to the grave
“You know your country needs you son, freedom you must save”
And so they swallow easy, line, sinker, even hook
And jet away to take what God has said should ne’er be took

And some men fight for honor and some men fight for blood
But most men they just fight for what they’ve been told that they should
But Jesus didn’t fight at all, He bleated like a lamb
Yet untold millions bow to Him, the King, the great I AM

A sword shoots out from His mouth; it’s like a spear of fire
And all who have been pierced by it have shriveled up and died
They’ve died to dreams of freedom, dreams of gold and fortune here
But in their very dying their vision’s become clear

They’ve seen their Savior as He is, the King of kings, the Lord
And when they’ve seen that vision, they’ve heard, “put up your sword”
And they’ve followed His instruction, men of peace they’ve come to be
Men who’re hated by the warmongers who claim to keep them free

So sell your shirt and buy a sword, but two’s aplenty man
And try to keep your conscience clean in this polluted land
And teach your children not to trust the things they hear at school
Cause it’s all propaganda, it’s the arguments of fools

Jesus said “be peaceable,” “lay down your life, and die,”
But no man can hear or see this, if he’s blinded in the eye
A radical commandment makes a radical devotee
But this, this is the lot, of those who’ve come to see