post your anti war poems here - Lets start a fund to get the

[peaccenicked]

First here is one of mine.

Children of a lesser God

The brew of Death descends the air
All is foul that once was fair
A heart at war is no more a heart
The art of hate was ne'er an art

Some utter words of "self defence"
but take no heed of innocence
thus giving scope to blind aggression
And therefore mock their very blessing

Conscience that makes cowards all
No longer makes these 'children' bawl
what eagerness to see destruction
what blindness to their own corruption

As twin towers of compassion and love
Fall from grace from those above
bombing what's below unseen
A baby smashed to smithereens


(Edited by peaccenicked at 1:20 pm on Sep. 22, 2002)

[PunkRawker677]

That was fuckin' AWESOME. I'm no poet, so i can't add on to this thread, but i HAD to compliment you.

[peaccenicked]

Thanks,PunkRawker677, but why not write your first poem on this theme.
The trick is to let the content come to you and dont worry about the ryhmme. Though sometimes it is good to think musically. Take your time. You are one of the many many people on this site with beauty in their hearts. See it as a little challenge. The less self consciousness the better.

[j]

Hey Peace--I have a rap song on and I started to read your poem and it fits with the song. If you were a rapper that would be hot!! (The song is "My Life" by Kool G. Rap and C-N-N)

Really though, Peace, that's a really good poem. That last stanza was great. Were you comparing the twin towers destruction as similar to our destruction of Iraqi babies?

j

[peaccenicked]

Thats funny J . My friend famous scottish poet. Tom leonard says he can see the rap rythms in my poems(sorry for the name dropping) The twin towers metaphor is the way I intended.yep. thanks.

[anti machine]

It is a good poem peace-i find it interesting that you're introducing a forum where the theme is "anti-war", yet here we are, supporting a site dedicated to Che Guevara, the epitome of war.

[peaccenicked]

Che believed there could be no peace without justice.
I think this is true. War is appropiate when fascists declare war on the people.
Another thing even the cappies claim Che as their own (http://www.lipmagazine.org/articles/featpollack_76.htm). It would be grossly unfair not to allow
the genuine anti-war movement not to claim him as one of their heroes.



(Edited by peaccenicked at 4:10 am on Sep. 27, 2002)

[canikickit]

I've none of my own poetry but this is one I like.

Siegfried Sassoon (1886–1967). 1918.

Base Details




IF I were fierce, and bald, and short of breath,
I’d live with scarlet Majors at the Base,
And speed glum heroes up the line to death.
You’d see me with my puffy petulant face,
Guzzling and gulping in the best hotel,
Reading the Roll of Honour. ‘Poor young chap,’
I’d say—‘I used to know his father well;
Yes, we’ve lost heavily in this last scrap.’
And when the war is done and youth stone dead,
I’d toddle safely home and die—in bed.


It is old and unfashionable really, but I still think it has a relevance. Extreme relevance.

[canikickit]

Dulce Et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen (first published 1921)



Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.


I don't really think this is that good a poem. But I love the bitterness of the last line, I think it's fantastic.

By the way: "Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori" means, it is a fine and honourable thing to die for your country.
I think that guy Patton(? ) said it well, something along the lines of, "a hero is not someone who dies for his country, but makes the other poor bastard die for his". I don't neccessarily agree but it isn't neccessarily that fine or honourable, is it?

(Edited by canikickit at 4:51 am on Sep. 27, 2002)

[peaccenicked]

I love the first world war poets. Great stuff. Worth reproducing too.

[BOZG]

Shit the second and third stanza's have a pure rap flow.

[BOZG]

Disabled
by Wilfred Owen


He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.

About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, -
In the old times, before he threw away his knees.
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands;
All of them touch him like some queer disease.

There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was younger than his youth, last year.
Now, he is old; his back will never brace;
He's lost his colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race
And leap of purple spurted from his thigh.

One time he liked a blood-smear down his leg,
After the matches, carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg,
He thought he'd better join. - He wonders why.
Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts,
That's why; and may be, too, to please his Meg;
Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts
He asked to join. He didn't have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years.
Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt,
And Austria's, did not move him. And no fears
Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts
For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;
And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;
Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits.
And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers.

Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal.
Only a solemn man who brought him fruits
Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul.

Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
To-night he noticed how the women's eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don't they come
And put him into bed? Why don't they come?

[BOZG]

Does It Matter?
by Siegfried Sassoon


Does it matter? - losing your legs?...
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show that you mind
When the others come in after hunting
To gobble their muffins and eggs.

Does it matter? - losing your sight?...
There's such splendid work for the blind;
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering
And turning your face to the light.

Do they matter? - those dreams from the pit?...
You can drink and forget and be glad,
And people won't say that you're mad;
For they'll know you've fought for your country
And no one will worry a bit

[BOZG]

Your Attention Please
by Peter Porter

The Polar DEW has just warned that
A nuclear rocket strike of
At least one thousand megatons
Has been launched by the enemy
Directly at our major cities.
This announcement will take
Two and a quarter minutes to make,
You therefore have a further
Eight and a quarter minutes
To comply with the shelter
Requirements published in the Civil
Defence Code - section Atomic Attack.
A specially shortened Mass
Will be broadcast at the end
Of this announcement -
Protestant and Jewish services
Will begin simultaneously -
Select your wavelength immediately
According to instructions
In the Defence Code. Do not
Tale well-loved pets (including birds)
Into your shelter - they will consume
Fresh air. Leave the old and bed-
Ridden, you can do nothing for them.
Remember to press the sealing
Switch when everyone is in
The shelter. Set the radiation
Aerial, turn on the Geiger barometer.
Turn off your television now.
Turn off your radio immediately
The services end. At the same time
Secure explosion plugs in the ears
Of each member of your family. Take
Down your plasma flasks. Give your children
The pills marked one and two
In the C D green container, then put
Them to bed. Do not break
The inside airlock seals until
The radiation All Clear shows
(Watch for the cuckoo in your
Perspex panel), or your District
Touring Doctor rings your bell.
If before this your air becomes
Exhausted or if any of your family
Is critically injured, administer
The capsules marked 'Valley Forge'
(Red pocket in No 1 Survival Kit)
For painless death. (Catholics
Will have been instructed by their priests
What to do in this eventuality.)
This announcement is ending. Our President
Has already given orders for
Massive retaliation - it will be
Decisive. Some of us may die.
Remember, statistically
It is not likely to be you.
All flags are flying fully dressed
On Government buildings - the sun is shining.
Death is the least we have to fear.
We are all in the hands of God,
Whatever happens happens by His will.
Now go quickly to your shelters.



A strange yet beautiful poem.

(Edited by BornOfZapatasGuns at 11:31 pm on Sep. 28, 2002)

[peaccenicked]

I like your selection. The last poem was new to me.
Powerful stuff.

[LeninCCCP]

I knew a simple soldier boy
who gleamed at life with simple joy
sleep soundly thourgh the lonesome dark
and whistled early with the lark
in winter treachs that were cold and gloom
all he saw was his doom
he put a bullet in his head
and before you knew it the war was dead

By: Unknown

[BOZG]

LeninCCCP,

That poem is actually some sort of variation of Siegfried Sassoon's poem "Suicide In The Trenches".

Here is the proper version


Suicide In The Trenches
by Siegfried Sassoon

I KNEW a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.


(Edited by BornOfZapatasGuns at 7:11 pm on Sep. 29, 2002)

[peaccenicked]

The original version is far more powerful.

[LeninCCCP]

Yes it is, i saw the one i have like 3 years ago online.

(Edited by LeninCCCP at 7:27 pm on Sep. 29, 2002)

[peaccenicked]

Here is an old one of mines.

In between wars

Its all in this place, so absurd, we die
where they walk so high
and flash their villianous smiles
as if you are a stupid by a hundred miles
pretend it is a game
say we are really all the same

And these animals go on
to sing our human songs
Do they think we can not see
that they cause such misery
and all that selfish pride
is place they can not hide

Their flyness is a see through scam
and the hell they give we damn,
their cunning brings disgrace
to the noble human race
and their lying theiving ways
are nought to do with wholesome praise

In between wars they still have no brain,
watch your heart they might drive you insane
They have no mind they can call their own
They are at war in their soul's home,
get yourself out before they pull you in,
before they take you for a heartless spin

If you want to use Freuds old grid
of the super ego and the id,
they are fighting what they don't want to know,
so learn that you have to let go,
get out of their war, for is n't your fight
for nothing to do with whats wrong and what's right

In between wars is where courage comes through
for civilization needs love that is true
It dances to music and sings out for peace
and for pains of the spirit, it bring us release
In between wars the mourning not done
In between wars, the war is never won

[Red Circle]

most of you have probably read this a thousand times, but i've always liked it.

"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle-be Thou near them! With them, in spirit, we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it-for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen."
--An exerpt from Mark Twain's "War Prayer"

[Red Circle]

this is one of my originals. If you follow it.. i'll be impressed... crap

I’ve seen the words all over walls
The symbols and the slurs
And I’ve heard the songs
Sending the children into head-banging fits
WAR engraved in their eyes

You saw the letters
Scrawled into the ash
But you can’t place the picture
It’s crumbling, crumbling down
Until it’s just another wall

[peaccenicked]

I liked that, that is the best use of the Pink Floyd wall imagery, I have seen.

[Red Circle]

Thanks.. or is that sarcasm?

[peaccenicked]

Sorry if it felt like sarcasm. As a active poet, I come across hundreds of new writings. Much of it picks up on cultural references that of course, part of our daily lives.
The wall theme is popular. Most of the time I have seen it, the poet has merely expressed the frustration of societal barriers to himself. This Pink Flloyd did (par excellence) already. The way you use it is much more objective and the wall is refferred to more obliquely than directly.
It ''works'' for me. Thanks for posting it.

[Red Circle]

Anytime.
By the way, i really liked yours in the beginning of thread. The rhythm was consistent and very musical. It worked for me too.

if you're interested in seeing more just e-mail me. then you can really lay on the sarcasm. :)
Peace

[peaccenicked]

I am working on a sort of best of che-lives against idea pamphlet. I want to include this. What I will do first is create a website with a proposed format and ask everyone to mecilessly criticise it. If you have more on the theme, post them here.
e mail me your other work and Ill be most happy.

[Red Circle]

No problem, but explain this site a little more for me?

[peaccenicked]

Basically I want to produce and print say a couple of hundred copies of an anti-war pamphlet based on posts from here. I will have to get Malte's permission but I cant see him bother if he gets to approve the final version.
The website will be an online draft, redraft and continual redraft, till, I 'm satisfied that those interested
like what is going down.

[Red Circle]

sounds like a great idea, so everyone will be able to make their own copies? i'll be sure to get to work on these anti-war poems

[peaccenicked]

Good. Thanks for the interest.

[Red Circle]

Another untitled, and unfortunately line-by-line capitalized (i didn't feel like undoing it) anti-war poem.
I guess this one's for my dad

Cold, twisted metal and plastic
One standard issue M16
Polished black, reflecting
Young faces, old faces
Patriotic countenances
Scarred with frightened eyes

We saw the rows of bloody tarps
Covering our “brothers in arms”
Brothers… I never met the guy
That was standing next to me
Teeth clenched, veins bulging
Rifle voicing his opinions
But at that moment only we mattered

We never saw their faces
No, no! God forbid
We should feel compassion for the
Human beings lined up on the other side.
No, we only saw the tracers, hot from hell
Burning straight through

Back home, a bunch of kids shout
Throw up their fingers in my face
Peace, man. Peace.
Yeah, I got fingers too
Let me flash you my fingers
5,800 times, and you’ll get the idea.

“What’s it all for,” they ask
What have I got left to show?
Scars, flashbacks
One cold, twisted
Standard issue nightmare

[peaccenicked]

I definitely think you have some of the Wilfred Owen in you. Very good.

[Kodzoquo]

Imagine

Imagine there's no heaven,
It's easy if you try,
No hell below us,
Above us only sky,
Imagine all the people
living for today...

Imagine there's no countries,
It isnt hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

Imagine no possesions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say Im a dreamer,
but Im not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.

John Lennon

[peaccenicked]

I read this book of the same title,was rather good.
http://www.canongate.net/rebel/rip.taf?_p=5416


(Edited by peaccenicked at 2:52 pm on Oct. 30, 2002)

[jpcupp]

History: Peace and Damnation !!!
> >
> > I.A SPADE IS A SPADE
> >
> > Historical truth is revised
> > in academic lies
> > to cover up the nature of power;
> > the violent tendencies of human progress.
> > Its intent;
> > to forget the unknown
> > bitten by dogs
> > and sprayed by a water hose,
> > trampled by tanks,
> > raped,
> > beaten,
> > jailed,
> > tortured,
> > the poor dead in the trenches of armed combat.
> > History adds names of peace,
> > hides reality,
> > the Lumpen's struggle to survive,
> > the names of "His Holiness"
> > the Dalai Lama's 4,000 slaves,
> > and CIA contacts.
> > History builds the cult of personality.
> > It loves a false Messiah,
> > especially the cannibalistic kind
> > who guides the states quo to victory,
> > in battle to be shown,
> > as clearly black and white,
> > right over evil.
> > History is a conspiracy.
> > History is colonial propaganda.
> > It is a good Shepard,
> > as he lovingly guides his flock of sheep,
> > fleeced,
> > unto gyro sandwiches;
> > slaughtered,
> > consumed,
> > and excreted.
> > History teaches humility to the weak.
> > It is betrayal to the meek,
> > who will NEVER,
> > I repeat,
> > NEVER,
> > inherit the earth
> > no matter how many signs they hold,
> > candles they burn,
> > neighbors they talk to,
> > dominant paradigms they meditate away.
> > History is the enabler of the rich,
> > the brutal,
> > the ones who sign defense contracts,
> > with the Anser Corporation,
> > the one's that presided over Che's corpse,
> > the ones that called it Liberalism and / or
> > Progressive
> > as they paid a gun to be black
> > as it shot Malcolm X,
> > under the guise of "Islam".
> > History is divide and conquer.
> > History is a good cop;
> > the one that espouses nonviolence,
> > conflict resolution,
> > They win. They win, again.) win/win solutions;
> > the voice that will
> > fight against our right
> > to fight back.
> > History is a bad cop,
> > the one that sent truth to prison,
> > the one that kills little children in gas
> chambers,
> > the one that creates the necessity of armed
> > resistance,
> > in the first place.
> > History changes.
> > It's mailable enough to fit the line of power,
> > situational to time and space.
> >
> > II. VANGUARD OF THE REVOLUTION
> >
> > -for Ilyich "Carlos the Jackal" Rameriz Sanchez
> >
> > Some go to sincere graves,
> > victorious over power.
> > Sound minded warriors
> > to be washed away, forgotten,
> > mourned,misinterpreted,
> > dishonored,betrayed,
> > loved,hated
> > mocked,embarrassed,
> > demonized, and patronized.
> > Some go to graves,
> > others to dungeons.
> > Some become what they hate,
> > in the end,
> > and join in feudal drumming,
> > others survived ostracized and marginalized
> > hiding in tomorrow
> > like Maroons in the hills.
> > Some can not be bought or sold,
> > while comradely others
> > can only be bought at a high price.
> > Some will resist even if they can not overcome.
> > Biologically the MUST MUST MUST
> > BITE KICK SCREAM
> > FOR GLORY& HOPE,
> > FOR HONOR.
> > A loaded gun.
> > For the sincere,
> > sincerity and militancy,
> > are synonyms.
> > Some speak what all know and must hear.
> > Some are proud without being indivualists.
> > Some never blush publicly.
> > Some do not back down.
> > Some do not try to raise money
> > with politically correct speeches.
> > Some have made a pact with death.
> > Some do not care,
> > furthermore, they laugh
> > when the heads of authority nod nervously;
> > knowing one day their own will roll.
> > Some speak nothing but truth thru ACTION.
> > Some live and breathe the struggle
> > BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!!!
> > Some people are true revolutionaries.
> > Nothing else is worth living for!!!
> >
> >
> > by John Paul Cupp
> >

[jpcupp]

WAR
========================================

THE WAR ON THE POOR.
THE WAR ON DRUGS.
THE WAR ON TERROR,
WHICH IS REALLY JUST THE USE OF COUNTERINSURRGENCIES
AGAINST JUST REVOLUTIONS.
INTIFADA! FARC-EP!
BLACK POWER! WORKER'S POWER!
PEOPLE IN THE STREETS!
THE WAR ON EVERYTHING,
EVEN PLANET EARTH,ITS SELF,
IT SEEMS
THE WAR FOR WHICH ABOVE GROUND POLITICAL SOLUTIONS
HAVE BEEN SOUGHT OUT AND TRIED
6 BILLION TIMES FOR 500 YRS.
THE WAR, THE WAR MONGERS INSIST MUST GO ON,
AND SO IT DOES, AND SO IT SEEMS,
THAT ONLY A MILITARY SOLUTION WILL END WAR, AND USHER IN PEACE.

[jpcupp]

ON BUILDING A MILITANT ANTI-IMPERIALIST MOVEMENT
BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY

THIS IS A SONG THAT CRIES OUT!
THIS IS A POEM THAT FEELS A BURDEN TO ACT!
THIS IS A WAR CRY DEMANDING TO KNOW WHAT THE VALUE OF LIFE HAS BECOME!
THIS A SIMPLE QUESTION ABOUT EXISTENCE WHICH IS SELDOM ANSWERED!
THIS IS A REMINDER THAT YOU TAUGHT US LIES!
THIS IS A CONFIRMATION THAT WE HAVE LEARNED MUCH FROM POVERTY!
THIS IS A REALITY OF CHILDREN DIEING!
THIS IS A SAMPLE OF HUNGER PAINS
AND LABOR EXPLOITATION!
THIS IS A MIGHTY GOD'S VENGEANCE
AS NATURE STRIKES BACK!
THIS IS A BUNCH OF STREET KIDS THAT DON'T GIVE A FUCK
ABOUT YOU JUST AS YOU DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THEM!
THIS IS A PRODUCT OF A DECADENT SOCIETY!
THIS IS A DICTATORSHIP WHICH CAN NOT
MAKE US STAND UNITED BEHIND THEM!
THIS IS A RETRACTION TO YOUR COMMENTS!
THIS IS A THING CALLED CHECKS AND BALANCES!
THIS IS A FLAG BURNING,
AND ALSO A MILITARY RECRUITING CENTER!
THIS IS A COUNCIL OF PEOPLE'S CONVICTING YOU
OF BEING A TERRORIST!
THIS IS A HAND WRITTEN APOLOGY NOTE TO THE PEOPLES OF AFGHANISTAN ON BEHALF OF THE FIRST WORLD RESISTANCE!
THIS IS A MEDIA DISASTER!
THIS IS AN ULTRA LEFTIST PROPAGANDA PIECE THAT YOU WERE UNABLE TO CONFISCATE!
THIS IS A NATION WITH A LOVE OF GENOCIDE
ACTING LIKE IT HAS THE HIGHER GROUND!
THIS IS A BULLY AS IT FINALLY MEETS ITS MATCH!
THIS IS A LOVE AFFAIR WITH HOPE COMING OUT OF EXILE!
THIS IS A STRIKE, AN ACT OF SABOTAGE AGAINST THE CAPITALIST SUPERSTRUCTURE!
THIS IS A KNOWLEDGE THAT THE CAPITALIST SUPERSTRUCTURE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE WAR AGAINST
INNOCENT FREEDOM LOVING PEOPLE!
THIS IS A TIME TO SHUT THE WHOLE THING DOWN!
THIS IS A RIOT IN THE STREETS OF EVERY MAJOR
CITY IN AMERIKKKA!
THIS IS A MATTER OF NATIONAL SECURITY WHICH CAN NOT BE PACIFIED, BOUGHT OUT, OR SQUELCHED BY THE POLICE, MILITARY, FBI, HOMELAND SECURITY, OR ANY OTHER ACT OF COERCION AND COUNTER REVOLUTIONARY VIOLENCE!
THIS A LOT OF NEW MINDS WHICH
WILL NEVER AGAINST FORSAKE EXISTENCE!
THIS IS A PROPHESY TRUTH
AS IT THUNDERS JUSTICE AND REVENGE!
THIS IS A MILITANT ANTI-IMPERIALIST MOVEMENT
BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!

[AntiGBW456]

This is my first post!!!

You can bomb the world to pieces
But you can't bomb the world to peace
Before the bombing even starts
It should have alredy ceased

So take out a pen and paper Mr Bush
And write down this little note
Maybe you should ask the public
Or let them take avote

But that's not the way it is, is it buddy
Cause you just make up their minds for them
You call your country a democracy
But your fuckin' useless my friend

So just remember this lesson Mr Bush
Cause i'm just a 15 year old boy
And even I know that the world
Is not a fuckin' toy

[peaccenicked]

AntiGBW456
Nice one.