I have eyes that see, yet they fail to perceive the reality of the times.

All they do is simply peruse CNN and the evening news.

Thus leaving vivid, scarring images upon my mind.

 I have ears that do hear, but the sounds they take in

Do little to please, but to my soul, they bind with,

Hollow sounds and mortar rounds, and the noise of war

 Thus parleying the deafening cries of those yet to die.

 Alas now, the third sense, which often is of most offense.

For the nose doth smell, but not of tender grass nor

Spring flowers that grow in clusters on the dell.

But that of sulfur and burning bone, the fires

Of hate, the Iridescent scents of hell.

 Also there is taste, this should be for the sweet

Tender delicacies of life.

 For what we are now given to eat heaps

 our plates  full with rancid decaying treats.

The sour bitterness of an unending war.

And the powers that be, screaming…

MORE, MORE and MORE.

It is times such as these, that our taste be a waste.

For who could say, when they awoke this day,

That the palate of life is in a grand way.

When children burn and old men yearn

For a better day.

  Now we have reached the final knell that makes me feel this way.

TOUCH

This should be tender, hands of joy, not sorrow.

It is for caressing a face, not pulling a trigger, nor

Waiting or hoping for another morrow.

TOUCH

Is for today, to show our love for all in a special way

Not by war, but by peace,

Not by fist, but by extended hand.

Better peace, than the destruction of

Man.

 J. Allen Wilson  © 2003

 The above poem is merely a statement of How I SEE and HEAR what is taking place in the world around us.

 It disheartens me when I FEEL the anguish of a family who has had a loved one die in a desert war that I SENSE is not justified.

For there were many who were for the war at first that now have come to see this was a total misrepresentation of facts.