May 25th, 2013


The Poet to her young comrades 2

I have forgiven several of my friends
betrayals so bad they will break your heart
as they did mine. Quite soon, departures start
among you – lovers, comrades. Never ends

this agony of watching things go wrong
in times of trouble. One will turn to drink
and slowly die. Another start to think
small compromises best, self-sold belong

among the worst there is. And yet his face
still has the smile you loved, as with a moan
reluctantly he sends the robot drone
that kills us each in turn. I hope for grace

to curse, love, understand such traitors still.
Stare coldly in their eyes, then shoot to kill.

The Poet to her young comrades 3

These are the worst of times that I have known.
I'd like to say they'll pass, yet fear to lie.
It's probable that some of you will die
before all this is done. Will die alone

in exile or in prison, slowly starve
die from diseases we know how to cure
be left to die from them because too poor.
Worse yet, know while you live your every breath

is stolen from those poorer. Make them count
each angry moment, live write fuck and dance.
You cannot choose your time. So take each chance
to live. Remember me. Give good account

of who I was. And make the bastards pay
who kill our world, our lives, our brief lost day.