brothers, should it always come to this

Brothers, should it always come to this

Brothers, 
Should we always return to the old tune
Of time and again tuning to counterpoint 

Of the past pain; a throbbing return 
Right at the very tipping point
Of the pinnacle to touch promised power? 

Brothers, how long should we bear
Blood-spattered battles of their 
Own making and their own imagination,

Their own thoughts, and their own creation?
How long should we let the pagans 
Pluck off feathers from our wings

–to which stupid plundering sings – 
Partying the persistence of the polluted plan
As the vampires again and again 

Have the plan prepared and bared
As did our yesteryear’s gods, 
Leaving us without defense, and  in tense?

Let us pound the drums and tom-toms of war
And let us let the reverberating sound soar 
High, high, high up there in the air

As yesteryear’s war songs we prepare
For our juggled and gagged flag to fly
Again against their blood-red raided sky.

Brothers, 
Then let us swallow a little while 
Their bitter bile as we prepare them to pace their last mile