POEM TITLE: WHY???

The Moon glistens down bright,
All over The World, in Every City,
Also, the guns, bombs and tanks,
They are free to roam,
Shine just as pretty and light,
Marching forth across the Earth,
But…

They carry a sentence,
Too many people allow to be finished,
All because of freedom?
How about just some land?
A "straight"... that isn't open? 
How about all the amendments,
That should be brought before the Ones,
Who for us.... should arise and take a stand,
Keep this world from falling into ruins,
By the words of any one desperate man.

When death knocks at their door,
And their children fall to the floor,
The blood draining away,
The gore and entrails blown astray,
Was it worth it, for those on the Hill,
To see the pretty and loud fight,
You know guns, bombs and tanks,
Only take life,
The future of our children,
All gone because the Hill,
Would not make it right.

Will you finally see?
In the blood moon light,
Could this have been,
A peaceful night?
When bombs are dropping,
Along with gun fight.

Many humans that walk this land,
Care nothing about the guns in hands,
Politicians care about being right,
The tanks, bombs and planes,
They think need to join the fight,
How many they can land,
Even if it takes the heart of one,
Who they have cherished,
From the day they were born.

So now can you answer,
Questions about the carnage?
What could you have done?
To save the bloody corpse,
The life that is running,
All over your floor?

So many times,
The answer,
That child,
Was right in front of you,
Yet your Freedom to do,
Vote however you wish to choose,
Carried a worth that was more,
Then the precious baby,
Dead on your floor.

The moon over the entire Earth above, 
Is now dark because of too much blood,
It drips down from the high sky,
Stains the rivers, oceans, and the seas,
Now comes the bloody roses,
To lay on the coffins of dead children,
Bloody roses full of memories.

Of what might have been,
Of all that is left behind,
Written in blood is a question,
That is now upon us,
Will we ever be free?
Or let petty theft of life,
Roam with glee?

Blood money exchanges hands,
High up on The Hill,
They get to decide,
We voted them in,
We gave them our rights,
While we deal with body counts,
Shots and bombs ring out all night,
Will freedom ever ring again?
If governments keep running,
Will they ever fall down?
Those heads on High,
Puppet strings too strong to unwind.

These children are trying,
To run and have fun in daylight.
The blood on the Money,
Changing hands in plain sight,
This blood runs in daylight,
Toward the bodies of children,
Just as bloody as the moonlight.

Children should also be able,
To let Freedom Ring,
Sitting at desks,
In classrooms learning about history,
Or in reading circles,
Recess for running,
In the streets playing,
In the neighborhood yards,
Buying their sweet treats,
Ice cream and candy bars.

So I ask again,
What do you need to see from the Hill?
What "Straight" needs to open?
How much oil will it take?
What country needs to be more skilled?
What is the Grand Event that you need,
To rip the guns, bombs and tanks,
Out of unstable hands,
And save the lives of children,
Who…
   Are… 
      All...
         Falling...
            Down!

Poem revision © 2026
Original Poem & Artwork Photo 
© 2023 Kat J Phillips
"I see… what others refuse to see.
I am… what others refuse to be"