BLOOD ON THE FLOOR

                                                            There is blood on the floor

                                                            It’s the blood of our youth

                                                            It’s been there before

                                                            It’s stark, shocking proof

                                                            Of sickness in this land

                                                            Leaving blood on our hand

 

                                                            There is blood on the floor

                                                            Despite the cry across the land

                                                            Of no more, no more, no more

                                                            Our Leaders refuse to take a stand

                                                            “This must stop”, they loudly say

                                                            But never do they find a way

                                                           

                                                             There is blood on the floor

                                                            Another school another state

                                                             Is anyone one keeping score

                                                            Our children still meet their fate

                                                            Do those we sent to the congress floor

                                                            Hear our demand: no more, no more

                                                           

                                                            The blood on the school floor

                                                            Is from our lovely daughters

                                                            As we cried so many times before

                                                            These useless slaughters                                                        

                                                            They are killing our sons

                                                            Sacrificed by our sacred guns.

                              Arthur Rathburn    January 2025

SEARCH FOR THE PROMISED LAND

                              Is failure in my search, despair?

                              Or is it in the search I should care?

                              Through life’s forest are many paths

                              Each with a chance to prevail

                              Each with a chance to fail.

 

                              Mine was to lead to eternal bliss,

                              Providing no turn did I miss.

                              I was to follow the strict rules.

                              Wisemen made the sacred laws.

                              How could there possibly be flaws?

 

I took the path my parents set.

                              Only confusion and doubt I met,                                                                           

Despite having holy book in hand.

If the path was so clear and true

Why is the end found by so few.

 

I stumbled from that sacred trail

On which it was said I couldn’t fail.

Was I destined to be forever lost?

I was to find other sacred ways

Recommended with glorious praise.

 

 

 

 

 

On each new path to glory I took,

I carried the proper holy book.

Each clearly stated what was right.

All other books must I feed to flame,

Even though the destiny was the same.

 

Path after new path I wandered

On each I eventually floundered

It seemed increasingly clear.

True was my fear of being forever lost

Into the depths of hell to be tossed.

 

 

Now as my search nears its end,

I being no longer able to defend

Against normal deterioration of age.

I realize, all paths lead to the promise land

Which was always in my seeking hand.

 

 

Reflections of my experience with the fallacies of religions.  There will only be peace when there are no religious leaders telling us all others are wrong.