"They are only words..."

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POEM 5   So much has made the world a place, Of laughter pity and disgrace, So many of the human race, Have perished for a dream. ~ So many people died in vain, When a madman tried to rule again, So many others suffered pain, - come early to the war. ~ The Jewish nation paid the price, Led to their deaths like timid mice, While Winston Churchill gave advice, - In our finest hour. ~ The trenches filled with dead men's blood, Bone and gore where once men stood, The living dying in the mud, - Come early to the war. ~ A medal here, promotion there, A smiling face, but in their stare, Their eyes reflect a deep despair, - In our finest hour. ~ Man and boy, father, son, Come learn how to shoot a gun, See the world, kill the hun, - Come early to the war. ~ After six long years at last it ends, Count the cost in family, friends, How could we ever make amends, - In our finest hour. ~ The unknown soldier, the unmarked tomb, The fatherless child in mothers womb, For all the dead there isn't room, - Come early to the war.

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POEM 6   There's a cold wind tonight, Cutting right through my bones, There's a deep freeze tonight, Turning water into stone, And here I stand with my eyes wide open, Waiting for the bus to come, Just hoping, It won't be too long. ~ There's a downpour tonight, Stormy waters from the skies, Raindrops fall like knives, Dropping tears into my eyes, And here I stand with my heart wide open, Waiting for someone to come, Just hoping, They won't be too long ~ There's a cold wind, A cold wind, A cold wind tonight....

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POEM 7   For many moons my people stayed We were hunting people, unafraid, No other tribe would dare to fight, Take arms against Arapaho might. ~ Many buffalo roamed the endless plain, Mighty herds, for few were slain, Our chieftans lived in awesome fame, Until the day the whiteman came ~ Howling wolf, our leader bold, Heard of the tales that were being told By other tribes from far away, That whiteman only comes to slay. ~ Once many tribes lived on this land, From the cold dark north to the rio grande, People living hand in hand... Apache, pawnee and the sioux, But soon their tribes became too few, When the whiteman came ~ And now the soldiers come with guns, Rape our women, kill our sons, Give us whisky, take our food, Their minds are crazy for our blood. ~ Now you ask me to lay down my bow, And follow the great white chief, What makes you think i'd stoop so low, As to listen to the words of a thief. ~ My people are strong, but their hearts are sore, And into the flames they've stared, The manitou says there must be war, And no whiteman shall be spared. ~ Now hear this, oh great white chief, In years to come you will share our grief, This land you stole and made your own, Was not meant for you alone.

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POEM 8   If you called me tomorrow, Do you know where I would be, Would I still be living, Would I still be me? ~ If I asked you for a favour, Would I get one in return, Could you teach me how to laugh, Could I ever learn? ~ If I asked you for the truth, Would you answer with a lie, Does everyone have feelings, Does everybody cry? ~ If I needed sympathy, Would you understand, And if I needed comforting, Would you hold my hand? ~ Why is life called living, Why is dying death, If I was suffocating, Who would give me breath? ~ If you called me tomorrow, Do you know where I would be, Would I still be living, Would I still be me?

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