Prove the doubters wrong.
With their runaway planes and platitudes.
Rid yourselves of this devil-man,
Who has falsely defined your identity.
Build a land of freedom,
That is fair, open and fine.
It’s a world I can see,
Free in my mind.
I want it for all humankind.
Shout for Libya! © Will Barton 2011
His breath is the gas of a devil.
His eyes burn into our dreams.
His lies have perverted the truth.
His hands have defiled his own people.
His words have infested our minds.
His rats pour out from his belly,
Stinking and foul and diseased.
Your faith will eventually kill,
This beast who has raped and devoured,
Enjoying the wounds that he makes.
Your strength will defeat his defiance.
Your fears can then be replaced,
By the healing and feeling it takes,
To rebuild and to love and believe. © Will Barton 2011
They are burning.
As new light
Like the sun,
Behind a storm.
Let in this light.
Let it turn
The red sands,
Let the people
Live without fear.
This is why we fight.
Is coming near. © Will Barton 2011
The old dog
At his bones.
Comes anew. © Will Barton 2011
Bloody roses bloom,
From the eyes
Of the dead.
But dead eyes
For the living
From the vision
Of the fallen. © Will Barton 2011
I cry for Libya.
The people rise,
Like the waves
Of a relentless sea.
With hearts on fire.
May fill the sea.
But this ocean
Is their strength.
You will be free. © Will Barton 2011
There is a pointless opposition
Between action and consequence.
But to equate the two would be to commit
A negligence of calculation.
To imprison a solution
In a madness of mechanisms.
Like trying to look at stars
Through shattered prisms.
It would be an intrusion and illusion,
Splattered with delusion.
But what sadness would be left ?
Like the wives of soldiers are bereft,
When news of death
Is dressed up and presented,
Leaving them demented.
Their pride is a kind of solace
But inside they are weeping.
Emotions in safekeeping.
For another time,
In some lonely place,
Where dark and cold,
They seek the answer
To the calculation. © Will Barton 2010
That on this beach,
There is a stone,
Which has your eyes.
I finger the shoreline,
Like it is a deckled edge.
Sifting the day’s catch,
Hoping to find you,
Watching me. © Will Barton 2009
Surround my bed
Let the candle burn
Keep my dreams
Let me wake
To morning light. © Will Barton 2009