Money Is Not The Problem

When money dictates what can’t be done, versus what can,

should it then by rule, be the guide of the conscience of man?

When nations protect themselves, with death dealing weapons of such lofty stealth,

why can not the will be found, to ensure their own citizens health?

Or, when the life inside an eagle's egg, can be protected by law,

why does a human embryo, the lesser compassion or protection draw?

The answers are much more simple, than you or others might think,

for it all boils down to the value of special paper, and some pretty ink.

For when such becomes 'money', it then represents individual and collective will,

so miserly rationed out for what’s good, while so easily spent in ways that kill.

So too, this money can soothe and excuse a stricken conscience, beyond all guess,

for then one's decisions, really aren’t personal, ‘it’s just business’.

But, I for one, do refuse to be dominated or guided, by mere paper and ink,

for I know money is not the problem; or is it, what do you now think?

C. J. Marshowler

Bloody Legion

Round about the silent valley, does now doom’s legion stand,

Looking down upon the slumbering, encamped rebellious band.

In unison, their swords against battle worn shields, begin to beat,

It sounds of crashing thunder, jolting resting rebels, to their feet.

Then with machine-like steps, they lean forward in their slow advance,

Against a camp in chaos, which of survival now, holds so little chance.

Eyes fixed ahead, toward the coming clash, of hot and bloodied steel.

They slash and tread asunder, all those who surrender, and before them kneel.

For it is not prisoners, for which they come, on this or any other day,

Nor is it their true purpose, to bring peace, or to this rebellion stay.

It’s not loyalty or honor, that has this legion duty bound,

No, not in these or any lofty principles, is their motive to be found.

It’s only at the behest of lies and greed, that they now strike down and defeat all foes,

With heartless precision, they’ve come to be the legion, from whom all blood now flows.

C. J. Marshowler

Mankind’s Storm

Pulsing streams of peoples, emerging and glistening with rage,

Freely flowing with determination, in every cut, from society’s cage.

Each of the wounds they exit, as oozing points of hope,

The rush is not for grandeur, it’s not that for which they grope.

But for freedom from injustice, untruth and the daily grind,

It’s escape from oppression and routine, they hope to find.

First running, then dripping in random form,

Each drop falls silently, in mankind’s storm.

The more that fall, the weaker lands grow,

How to stop the gush, leaders can’t know.

Though their numbers include, every race, sex and age,

Their common connection, is what’s set this stage.

Lack of love and purposeful lives, are the common and true,

Reasons for this bleeding, and the world’s one, and last, clue.

C. J. Marshowler

The Children Of Others

Innocent lives cut short, by death in war,

are not unknown, in the mounting score.

Who will cry for those, who wrought this cost,

in the day of reckoning, when their lives are lost?

I’m sure for them, some tears will then be shed,

as they are miscounted, among the innocent dead.

For it was with well crafted lies, that they did decide,

to send their warriors, as the real truth they did hide.

Touting freedom, as their purpose and rallying cry,

they sent out the children of others, to kill and die.

Not having to live with consequences, for their decision,

their judgement was clouded, by their lack of moral vision.

Thusly have they sheltered, themselves and their own,

while contempt for other’s lives, they have callously shown.

C. J. Marshowler

To Have It All

Happiness and joy, are available to all,

Though neither, from the sky do fall.

Both can be made, found or lost,

Both can exact, their own cost.

Never has anything, worthwhile been obtained without loss,

You can’t have something for nothing, as life’s ocean you cross.

Only so many things, will fit into your boat,

Too many, you sink, enough and you float.

As you sail through life, you must heed this one call,

Not everything is possible, if you try to have it all.

For there are limits, that for us all, do exist,

Limits that allow us, or us do resist.

So fill your boat, my friend, not until it is full,

For if you do, as it sinks, you’ll not escape its pull.

C. J. Marshowler

Freedom's Hope

Through complaint, protest and revolt, without the gun,

They have now an opportunity, so remarkably won.

Filled with ecstatic joyfulness, their united voices resound,

As they now stand at the edge, of their bright future found.

Will they be able to keep out, the past they seek to quell,

Letting it be a past lesson, as in peace and happiness they dwell?

The answer to this will be determined, as moments unfold,

While their euphoria mellows, with their need to be bold.

Bold enough to now live, the future they’ve all dreamt of,

Strong enough to continue their struggle, based on love.

For love will be the measure, of each new decision made,

And if not so, their future will be but the past, in which they’ve stayed.

But, far from reality, may that now come to be,

As we all hold our breath, while we wait to see.

C. J. Marshowler