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That Terrifying Enemy

Two weeks after I graduated from high school,
I was in the Air Force.
Patriotic and eighteen.
Scared as hell during basic training...
But ready to kick plenty of ass!
And working hard during the week,
To receive a weekend pass!
Time seemed less urgent then!
We knew we would accomplish things!
And certain we were we would win!

Fourty-three years ago...
I wanted it known I wished to save souls then.
I wanted to be a pilot and fly,
But I became a poet with a pen!
And times have changed since then as well!
Now it is not clear,
Who is fighting for what and 'why' it should matter?
We have consciously let our treasured ideals...
Lose it's appeal to keep falsities,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Contractors Of Piece

Contractors of piece,
Deciding which piece each will keep.
Contractors of piece,
Deciding which piece each will keep.

Even though wars are ending.
And valiant troops have done their deed.
Loved ones in their hometowns,
Are relieved there's a fighting...
That finally has come to cease.

Restoring broken unities...
Of awaiting friends and families,
Seems not to stop...
The fighting over rebuilding greed.

Contractors...
Now on shores destroyed by wars.
Contractors...
Armed with plans and making demands.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Last One Standing

Standing alone,
Above a bottomless void.
You just want it all,
But you’ve forgotten that I’m still here!

A lone wolf in the arctic desert,
The tiger that evades capture.
Fangs and claws,
Razor sharp in the cold clear night.

I think you’d better run now,
‘Cos I’m coming after you.
I’m the last one standing,
And I’m waiting for you!

Would you bleed,
Would you cry,
Would you kill
For your greed?

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poem by Thistle Wargul
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When the Bush Begins to Speak

They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.

'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.

All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;

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poem by Henry Lawson
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Caught Up In a Mess

What amazes is the feeding of the greed.
And the heat from the people raging,
That a payback is not needed.
Some say...
Accusations cause sensations deceived.
And we are caught up in a mess,
That is not cost effective.

Well, well...
What amazes is the feeding of the greed.
And the heat from the people raging,
That a payback is not needed.
Some say...
Accusations cause sensations deceived.
And we are caught up in a mess,
That is not cost effective.

Well, well...
We've been affected.
Well, well...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Patted Fat Cats

They want deregulation done by government.
But from their mouths they shout and say,
They want the government away.

They want deregulation done by government.
But from their mouths they shout and say,
They want the government away.

What's wrong with greedy people,
Who just want to feed their greed.
And when the greeding stops,
They want to blame someone about it!
And...
What's wrong with greedy people,
Who just want to feed their greed.
And when the greeding stops,
They want to blame someone about it!

They don't want no more taxes.
But they want to live relaxed.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What would Amos say?

The rural prophet was greeted with cheers when he began his discourse thus:

“This is what Justice demands:
For three acts of treachery, even four, the Banks will face outrage
Greed will consume their senses; avarice will cloud their judgement,
The sleeping giant of public anger will consume the Banks,
Their Ivory Towers will collapse at their feet
Their castles will be foreclosed.
Their guilt was treachery, broken trust, greed and last
But not least the silent axe at the root of their empires… being wise in their own eyes”.

And the crowd exploded with roars of agreement… the media never leads, but follows public opinion.

“This is what Trust witnesses:
For their acts of betrayal, even corruption, Politicians will destroy
trust in democracy, by their greed and rampant selfishness
Feeds into a nation devoid of community awareness,
A nation seduced by celebrity and fame
Corruption, word and deed exposed for consumers
Judgement and cynicism increase sales

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poem by Adrian Wait
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When The Money Is Right

Dollar profits gone.
And the purpose of one's life,
Goes misunderstood.
Or never comprehended,
As life should be...
A priority.
And on the top of one's agenda.
If lived and embraced.

When the money is right...
Everybody with it wants to play big shot,
All day!
All night!
When the money is right...
Everybody's ripe,
To splurge and feed their appetites.
When the money is right...
Nobody cares who's homeless or hungry,
With no where to sleep or eat at night.
When the money is right...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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GM Battle Earth Began In Eden

In Eden choices
between good evil
were desire made.

What fruit would you eat?
What choices will you make?
What life path decision walk?

Your actions carry implications
decisions have consequences
nature has laws as do societies;

when spoken written codes
of honour are foolish broken
fickle souls become cast outs.

Will you reap benefits
of your labour solid planted?
Will you curse this earth
despoil ground giving life?

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Amazon Jungle After Alfred Tennyson The Brook

By mangrove swamps I idle round,
my canopy's world wonder,
leafcutter ants beneath the ground
where three toed sloths would wander.

Tall forest Tarzan never knew
from ground grows great, colossal.
My ecosystem filters through
sward broadleaf basin fossil.

I wind about, and in and out,
with here a silted delta,
an anaconda round about
observes the helter-skelter.

Pass here and there a native hut
pirogues moored to lianas,
with cataracts which canyons cut
mid mangroves and bananas.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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