Friend and Foe Post # 213

Fifth Wreath
Music of reds and crimsons, battle on.
Continue calling out until the seven
thousand men and boys slaughtered like cattle on
this green hill, in crass insult to blue heaven,
breed children’s children’s children, to change all
to change revenge: until revenge is even
against revenge. Sing on, until revenge’ll
take vengeance on itself, take eye for eye
no more: until each flower becomes an angel –
no longer seeding, breeding here to die
in dignified remembrance, apt memorial,
bleeding into these Balkan hills and sky –
and do not seal your silent lips until
red stands for more than their avenging will.

Richard Burns

How is it that such lessons are forgotten, hidden away in time. Twelve years it took to wake a nation from the forgotten, hidden with time, to ask why. To reason with the reasons of kings provide with only chase of the chaos, wars within a war was born. Both without reason without the lies.

Four years now, a nation is awake and cold sober, yet silent for some, the task of cleaning the imperial from our union is upon us again. A fellow named Felix, offender to laws written in those twelve years, but a fellow named Gonzales with imperial forgiveness of tens of thousands of deaths. Justice for a friend is not the justice of all, it becomes present in our minds how can we recover our union of these states without independence of justice. Even a tool in gang wars, 13, as if a code, 113, another gang with imperial orders, the truth washes clean LBJ.

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