Under the freedom of thought act
Under the freedom of thought act
I have been accused of
Many misdemeanors
Included were thoughts of innocence.
© Calac
poem by Chris Lane
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Born on the 4th of July.
Liberty is their destination.
Born on
The fourth of July 1776.
Liberty is taken
For the pursuit of happiness's, freedom
And declared, constitution.
Those who have chosen liberty
Have freedom, freedom to choose
Never oppression
© Calac
poem by Chris Lane
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Following Orders As Soldiers.
Some follow orders well,
Others question authority
Everyone is someone's child
And sad it is
When their lives are snuffed.
Perhaps the War is noble
Could well be, that it is just
And pitiful are the answer
When consulting history books
Death is a constant
Remembrance a must
Difficult it is to judge when
The Victor writes the history books
© Calac.
poem by Chris Lane
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Mother After Mother
Mother after Mother
Surviving evolution
Reaffirms the overall
Requirements for balance
For that which remains.
Here life depends on Coexistence
With Father star burning.
Fragile Mother, poor! Poor Mother.
What of her children?
What of their homeland?
Mothers Children, look out
See the past drifting away,
Sees future immortality
Manifest machines to travel eternity.
Mother Dreams infinity.
poem by Chris Lane
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Birthday Call
I called her on her birthday!
He answered the phone, which didn't surprise me,
We exchanged polite formalities, spoke of hunting,
Corporate takeovers, hardware stores, The Weather.
When he asked me ' guess what? '
I immediately thought, ' I bet she's expecting.'
Triumphantly he announced ' We're Pregnant! '
Such elation! - my immediate reaction
After all; It was just what they had wanted.
© Calac
poem by Chris Lane
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On Your Sixteenth
Having arrived at this time
Today you became sixteen
Your the Princess! , feeling Cinderella:
Because your Mother
Insisted that you - clean the mirrors,
Sweep the floors, before you went for a walk
On this beautiful Sunday
On your sixteenth birthday.
Later that same evening
We raced the Sunset west
Towards Hiram
Our archaic red Volkswagen van
Zündfolge repeating steady rhythms singing
Pushing us along.
© Calac.
poem by Chris Lane
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Spring Sun Risen
In keeping with tradition the elders watched the sky
Around the last days before, the Winter Sun would die:
Like her Mother before her, she'd send the children up
To the highest point on Derry Hill west of Currahsceach:
And true to form - they'd bid the Winter Sun farewell
Knowing that - all the alignments were now set.
That was always one day before the arrival of Spring Sun
A shadow cast Winter aside, new life had begun.
© Calac.
poem by Chris Lane
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Arctic Passage - fabled shipping lane opens
Climate change felicitated a new shipping lane opens
The fabled Arctic Passage along Siberia's coastline
50 Let Pobedy. Her victory over ice
Plows steadily through ice cold sheets of white
© Calac
50 Let Pobedy
Russian: 50 л е т П о б е д ы , transliterated as 50 Let Pobedy
50 Years Since Victory or 50 Years Anniversary of Victory
50 Let Pobedy is a Russian Federation Nuclear Powered Icebreaker which is used to keep the Arctic Passage open during the summer months
poem by Chris Lane
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Extraordinary Rendition - The truth shall set you free.
Imagine outsourcing interrogation to extraordinary places
Interrogation turns to torture even cold blooded murder:
Beyond the eyes of the civilized of those who may question even scrutinized
The logic of the truth gained to make you free:
Outsourced to Countries and or regions
Who seemingly have their own forms of political
Autonomous Freedoms:
Where laws are made by militia men or
Dictatorial Puppet Regimes:
Or to locations that simply approve of such schemes
Using interrogation or torture as a means to an end.
© Calac
poem by Chris Lane
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No Chance for Peace
No chance for peace – Their declared stance!
Surprised I am not for they operate from a position of dominance
Their strong arm tactics elevated higher
By an ever increasing grouping of obedient tax-payers.
The populace, their wealth they pour
Into the furnace of an all consuming fire
Mesmerized by the flickering flame
Detached unless the implication strike home.
Not all are consumed by this flicker from Hades
The funeral pyre or the ashes made
Belief is held from those who scatter
Hope to wind, denying fuel for their fire.
© Calac
poem by Chris Lane
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