Where The Angels Sing

The rain is falling down

The sky is grey and bleak

Everywhere is silent

A cheerless, lonely town

.

Like ghosts along the pier

Like phantoms in the night

We can only cry and wait

For our ending to come near

.

No place for us to run

No place for us to hide

We can only hold each other

As history is spun

.

As we see our town in ashes

The baker’s store, the willow

The cobbled streets, a better time

That comes to me in flashes

.

And it includes a young man, grinning

A man that I have loved

With sparkling eyes and barking laugh

A way that made him winning

.

And when days were good we’d meet

In a summer valley

With dewy tress and singing creek

The only place I was complete

.

It was there that he first kissed me

It was there that he proposed

It was there that our hearts came together

And helped us both to see

.

It was out there in that glen

When war’s whispers finally came

We’d hear about it; its bloody trail

Every now and then

.

And he and I, we waited

For what we knew would come

The draft, the uniform, the soldier’s gear

The fight that we both hated

.

And when we said goodbye

In a lingering kiss

He whispered a sweet promise

And I could only cry

.

And so I watched him go

In a uniform we both loathed

But we knew, our time would come

My lover, my beau

.

But not long after he had left

New lines of war were drawn

And our lovely, carefree town

Suddenly, was bereft

.

For the enemy soldiers came

Took over our poor town

Used it as a battleground

And used us in their game

.

And like pawns, we were used

To help them win their war

A disposable town, pathetic people

A resource to be abused

.

So with optimism we responded

Hoping it would help

Hoping that our boys and men

Would receive what we corresponded

.

But nobody came to help

The battle lines drawn clear

The soldiers were here, here to stay

And they treated us like whelps

.

They used us as their servants

They abused us their leisure

Made us treat their wounds

Let nothing but observance

.

And anyone who disobeyed

Suddenly disappeared

As we became their slaves, their whores

Every whim to be obeyed

.

So when the gunshots rang

And the front lines started closer

We wondered if our men could return

As the bullets and shout all sang

.

And these soldiers were suddenly smart

When they looked at our old town

As they realized just what they could do

Se we could become a part

.

And now we play a part, in this wicked war

We became hostages of these men

Suddenly fine pieces

Better than before

.

We were given a warning

‘Be good to us’, they said

And now that we’ve been good

We’ve see the dawn of morning

.

And with the dawn came fire

As they burned down our poor town

They let the rain sting our faces

While they built our unmarked pyre

.

So now there’s little left

Of this place that we called home

Where children played, where people laughed

Our hearts torn with the theft

.

And now, while we wait

All sentenced to our death

I can only think of him

And what happened to our fate

.

Where a white dress waited

And a violin would play

Where a kiss would seal our hearts

A hope now desecrated

.

The barn where we once danced

Will now become our tomb

As these monsters light the fire

I think of his romance

.

And thus, I whisper my goodbye

I whisper ‘I love you’

And as I find my happy place

I let out a sweet sigh

.

And focus on the better times

Focus on the love

Focus on that valley

Where pain was once a crime

.

And as I twist the diamond ring

And think of his sweet promise

I can only hope that one day we’ll meet again

Up where the angels sing

 

 

Okay, so I know this isn’t my usual type of poem. Very dramatic, very dreary, very drastic. In truth, though, I wrote this months ago, and it sat on my computer because I was worried about putting such a touchy poem up.

Then I watched The Boy In The Striped Pajamas. Suddenly, that very dramatic, dreary, drastic movie helped give me confidence in this poem, and it’s story.

I will be the first to admit that the atrocities of World War Two are very, very interesting to me. Not in a morbid way, but in the mere astonishment of what people will do to others. From the Nanking Massacre in 1937-1938, the Oradour-sur-Glane Massacre in 1944, and, of course, the murder of six million Jewish people, along with the masses of the mentally disabled, Romanian, gypsy, homosexual and other cultures killed in work camps throughout Europe. This also includes the horrors of what the Nazi party did under the orders of Hitler, including the twisted Josef Mengele who preformed brutal experiments on children.

However, there was also some light in that dark time. Viktor Frankl is one of my favorite psychologists; I find him to be an uplifting and highly intelligent man; a psychologist that was more human than say, some of the psychologists such as Freud andSkinner.

The horrors of war are awful, and many of them leave scars on many of us. However, there have been many, many other awful wars and massacres even recently. The Rwandan Genocide in 1994, The Srebrenica Massacre in 1995, and some massacres and genocides as recent as 2001. Hate still is in our world, and apparently, we don’t learn from our mistakes.

I guess what I’m trying to say here, is although I wrote this poem with one of the World Wars in mind, it honestly, could be any country at war, any place that has brutality. World War Two was hardly the end of such atrocities such as the concentration camps. All we can truly do is learn from our history, and not doom ourselves to repeat it.

Believe me when I say that I am not usually so ardent in my ideas of peace. But by doing two projects (Nanking and a all-too-short bit on the holocaust, here and here) and yet still reading about some of the awful things that go on in our world can make me a little upset.

So, there’s your summer history lesson for the day. I’ll be more light hearted later, but perhaps, sometimes, its good to introduce something for people to think about. Don’t think poorly of me for it.

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Find My Heaven, Banish My Hell

I’m ready to dance

I’m ready to sing

I’m ready to find heaven

And banish my hell

.

Break free of my chains

Break free of the game

Break free of the night

And breathe in the light

.

I’m going to restart my heart

I’m going to fly again

I’m going to find what makes me

And see that sunset sky

.

A way from that hell

A way from my chains

A way for me to finally see

And finally become me

.

I’m going to feel that fire

I’m going to feel desire

I’m going to chase the stars

And only stop for dreams

.

Tonight I’m going to flare

Tonight I’m going to shine

Tonight I’m going to live and fly

And live to never die

Tonight, I’m getting my makeup done, getting my hair curled, and putting on my grad dress. Because, tonight, is the night that all the grade twelves get into their limos with friends, take pictures, and go to a banquet held in their honor. Then we dance the night away in a haze of family and friends, and, maybe, a wee bit of drinking. (Most of us are legal, after all…) We get ourselves all prettied up for one night that we hope we never forget. Because this is part of the next step in our lives, so we are told.

I’ve been to a lot of grads. Fourteen, in fact. And each one, they tell us that this is the next step in our journey of life. This is the night where we celebrate the work we have done over the past twelve years, and can enjoy it. What they always forget, is that we have to go to school the next weeks, write our finals, and then we get kicked out into the real world…

Anyways, I don’t know how I feel about today. Excited? Happy? Sad? I don’t know. It’s nice to be primped and pampered, and have half a dozen cameras going off at once at you. It’ll make you feel special, and like all this work was worth it. But we’ll see. This poem is just for tonight. A little step onto the next journey, where I’ll forge my own path in life from now on…So wish me luck for a good night!

The Wallpaper Rose

Inside the halls of the wallpaper rose

The ones who sit and wait

For a pre-determined fate

Where the men they meet

Will sweep them off their feet

Where they believe in fairy tales

And spin webs of make believe

Where they can hardly conceive

A real world, outside

And instead they hide

Within the walls of an invented castle

Princesses, in need of prince charming

To save them from a dragon’s harming

To take them away, atop a white horse

And take them away, with the sword and force

And yet, they cry when years go by

And no fair prince has come to aid

So they instead, in bitterness, they slowly fade

Into the walls of their castle sham

A wallpaper rose, without a man

 

So I apologize. I meant to post this, as per usual, after the quote went up, but I got sick (again) and just didn’t have the time to do it. Or write an extra ordinary poem about what truly holds us back from our dreams.

So instead, you get a quick poem about those people who do nothing to chase their dreams, expecting everything to fall into their lap…which is hardly any way to live your life.

And I’ll do better next week, I promise. 😉