We raise our eyes up and look to the skies,
but it's all been a pack of bloody lies.
We all kneel down before him and give tithes,
to a craven image full of bloody lies.
We pay for a missile that so rudely flies,
to a faceless family with its bloody lies.
We march to Armageddon with regrettable sighs,
powerless to correct our own bloody lies.
To the pulpits of power our pundits rise,
calling it leadership while they spew bloody lies.
To gain such power they must compromise,
in a web of deceit and backbiting bloody lies.
Power begets power and big money buys.
More power to broker its bloody lies.
If all are created equal in his eyes,
Then why all the hierarchy built on bloody lies?
A hierarchy of kingdoms wrought by rusty scythes,
of countless millions smitten by a bloody lies.
A Camelot of fortunes deceiving the eyes.
A shining castle of covetous convenient bloody lies.
We are schizophrenic when our faith denies,
that the thin veil of truth is nothing but bloody lies.
So whether you laugh or cry when a baby cries,
is that baby's life propped up on bloody lies?
Denies. Denies. Denies. Thrice he denies.
The fourth time, can we see through his bloody lies?
I hope so--so that war finally dies.
Photo Courtesy The We
Read War's End, the Novel
Copyright 2006 © Ronald W. Hull
Photo Courtesy China Daily