At Guantanamo
Come around
Listen in
Settle down
Hear the sound
Of the maimed and the missing
Of Guantanamo
Think of yesterday
now today
Victor Jara and Emmett Till
Will help you watch
new fingers break
Under boots of Goodyear Rubber
At Guantanamo
The kidnapped and the maimed
The punished and the tortured
suicide and murder
we leave all this and more
for our children to redeem
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poem by Bob Green
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Guns Against Knives
I’m tired of people getting sick
As soon as they’re born
Of soldiers killing
Innocent kids
And my heart is too torn
I’m tired of marching
In a stupid parade
Begging strangers for sympathy
Expecting a raid
I’m tired of meetings
At which gray heads agree
On Vancouver or France
If the time comes to flee
I’m tired of signing
The fucking petitions
Begging for justice
For relief of conditions
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poem by Bob Green
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Grant Us Peace, Father of Abraham, Isaac and Ishmael
Grant us peace,
that we may not oppress our neighbors
Grant us justice,
that we may not enslave our neighbors
Grant us sanity,
that we may not torture our neighbors
Grant us mercy,
that we may not murder our neighbors
Grant us conscience
that we may not expel our neighbors
Grant us love,
that we may hunger for truth
Grant us discernment
that we may know what is ours, and what is not
Grant us decency
that we may return what we stole
Grant us courage
that we may admit what we’ve done
Give us strength to atone.
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poem by Bob Green
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