Sunday, September 11, 2011

Honor the Fallen

Honor the fallen and those who risked their lives to save others today. 

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Only A Decade Ago

One bright morning, now ten years ago,
No one dreamt, while going off to work,
Lunatics had planned to go berserk
Yielding fury like a lava flow.

A scant ten years –– an amplitude of woe ––
Denial since that demons near us lurk
Enraptured by sheer rage –– sharp like a dirk ––
Craftily whetted in hellfire’s glow.

A grim corrosion followed the attack.
Demented perverts scheme to have us think
Euro-centric values are at fault ––

American prosperity is black ––
Greed and gall have brought us to the brink
Of seeing all we have come to a halt.


~ FreeThinke - 9/11/11

Silverfiddle said...

Well crafted words, and true, FreeThinke

Jersey McJones said...

How does what FT said honor anybody?

To honor the fallen we should be bring our troops home - from everywhere - and become a nation again, instead of an empire.

We have no business except business to impose ourselves on the reat of the world. Oil and military profits are not more important than the health and integrity of the state.

JMJ

Anonymous said...

  A Wry Memorial

The Swarthy Ones took over;
And made weapons of four planes.
The riders had no cover;
They suffered dreadful pains

That ended once their deathtraps
Burst into roaring fires
Turning instantly to mere scraps––
Cinders––made of former flyers.

The burning towers crumpled,
And fell into the street.
New York was more than rumpled;
Briefly, it knew defeat.

The nation drew together;
We felt collective grief.
Anger broke its tether;
To express it gave relief.

But only ten years hence
We're at each other's throats;
We've built ourselves a fence
Over which the Devil gloats.

We've failed to give the orders
To build a proper wall
Sealing off our borders
To the fiends who’d have us fall.

Instead, we've made division––
Went to war against ourselves––
And are mired in derision
Sparked by partisan elves,

Who forget this blessed land
In pursuit of powers lost
In close elections manned
By fraud. So, tempest-tossed

The country is in turmoil.
The enemy's our own.
He says it's all for Big Oil,
And he'll soon usurp the Throne.

The heap of twisted rubble
Raising toxic fumes for weeks
No longer gives us trouble
Because of media leaks

Designed to throw us off the scent
Of whom we need to blame
And encourage ruinous dissent
That hopes to break the frame

That holds us all together
And preserves our liberty,
So many now doubt whether
We really should be free.

And each rabble rousing louse
Should 'neath these words be pinned:
"He who troubleth his own house
Shall inherit–––the wind"

~ FreeThinke - 9/11/07