Young America Sings Democracy’s Song

young america sing democracy_s song

From the ash of disaster rise the strong
Sown resolve forged in Colonial foundries
A new warrior floods the commonwealth
Young America sings Democracy’s song.

Beneath the blades of grass lies unrest
Wolves in shepherd’s robes forsake safety
Innocents taken paid the Devil In full
Classroom killing fields filthy with death.

A child soldier wields the Sword of Light
Striking the glutinous beast bowel deep
The creature’s squeal deafens the swamp
Traitors and thieves beg for their lives.

From the ash of disaster rise the strong.
Young America sings Democracy’s song.

by, Hugh A Tague
inspired by; Walt Whitman’s
I Hear America Singing

Omayra’s Smile

Omyra's smile

by, Hugh A Tague

Pressure below the ground began to build
Smoke and ash billowed into the night’s sky
The earth’s crust shook and became fire tilled
Over the next few days many will die.
In this place where happy children once played
Omayra is locked in sunken debris
Her precious new life is no longer safe
Scared and lonely she struggles just to breathe.
Hearing her cries many gathered around
She faced death with the smile she put on
But no one could pull the girl from the ground
After three days  Omayra’s life was gone.
The earth was angry and took her away.
Omayra’s sweet smile lives on today.

Wicked Seeds Sown

by Hugh A Tague

Celebrating the sublime, mindless of malice
murder becomes life’s darkest perversion
assassin’s bullets forge soldiers of the slain
martyred, their phoenix ignites freedom’s flame.

Powerless to bequeath true wealth lost
an ancient evil corrupts the human light
souls chosen to pay the Reaper’s steep toll
unconsciously pledge an immortal oath.

Those responsible to guide the many
deceiving their charge for greed and glory
warriors and weapons eternally morph
twisting flesh and metal to suit their war.

These wicked seeds sown have been sown anew
until Man salts the land of hate it grows
their faces and battlefields endlessly evolve
rain upon crimson-waxed earth is nature’s resolve.

Twisting flesh and metal to suit the war
unconsciously pledge an immortal oath
assassin’s bullets forge soldiers of the slain
martyred, their phoenix ignites freedom’s flame.

heatherpurple

Nothing Remains

18698438_1371902676196687_4410613088165506503_n

by, Hugh A Tague

Fascist fireworks observed worldwide
Ignorance from within feeds the bane
Arrogance looking on shamefully retain
Raising welts upon Democracy’s hide.
Those united, nationalist seek to divide
Russian plundered money from Ukraine
Alternative facts and fear-fund campaigns
Diversity’s gifts to all they would deny.

Populist deceit persists without refrain.
With Integrity’s death, Nothing Remains.

Feeling Memorial Day 2017

Memorial Day 2017

© 2017 Hugh A Tague

Seems fitting, here upon my life’s stage

gray skies keeps the sunshine at bay

on this particularly dark Memorial Day.

I wonder, are their souls abreast

can they see Democracy’s latest test

beneath the blanket of honor from which they rest.

Those who stand silent before Treason’s insight

disrespecting their sacrifice in spite

do not represent America’s plight.

Tears from heaven fall as drops of rain

their cry for justice I fear may wane

should integrity and honor die in vain.

A Nation Divided Our Children Cry

996814_528722227181407_932918979_n
by Hugh A Tague

In a small Florida town a shot rang out
A hooded young boy just on his way home
Attacked by a man who brandished a gun
This battle this night he could not have won.

A perforated young heart beats no more
His blood flowed into the now hallowed ground
Yelling and screaming he put up a fight
He took his last breath that dark rainy night.

Senselessly and needlessly a life lost
So many questions the answers unclear
Leaving most of us just wondering why
A nation divided our children cry.

No one around to help him stand his ground
Who speaks for him now can his voice be heard
His bright young light was turned off much too soon
Now that light twinkles with the stars and moon.

A hooded young boy just on his way home
His blood flowed into the now hallowed ground
Attacked by a man who brandished a gun
This battle this night he could not have won.

Hugh Tague 7/17/13