Impressions Of A Futile Battle Poem by Paul Amrod

Impressions Of A Futile Battle

Rating: 5.0

Whimpering amply grieving over inhumanities
observing the brutal behavior and tragic calamities
I wipe my sleeve commencing to furiously back-paddle
to the start of these overwhelming tragedies.
Discovering only theorems of disorientation
I breathe in deeply conceiving the more valid reasons.
Exploring through a range of alternative strategies
I meander through a myriad of postulations.
Suddenly the appearance of a stunning treason
disrupts my intensified fashion of concentration.
I am overtaken with the impressions of a futile battle
which supplanted any logical thoughts in process.
Digging like archeologists beneath the surface
evidently here lies the changing of our seasons.
Passing through autumn into winter we progress
to a greater awareness and a fitting clarification.
Searching like rodents a cavalry obtained access
to a forbidden wealth as I cordially tattle
with a waving finger exposing their greed.
Pointing at these morbid heathen battalions
which monopolize our precious resources
as they ride upon their apocalyptic stallions.
Killing mankind's creative will and aspirations
by bidding better these monstrous mouths to feed.
We all implore for the godly to kindly intercede
as we are forsaken with impressions of a futile battle.
Selling fear with pansies marching the masses
into ignorance as for liberation we do plead.
Our Prince of the Stars jubilates and endorses
our return to resilience as time passes.
Our sentiments for community, which for eons
has been our philosophy, will reinforce
us as we smile wearing kaleidoscope glasses.
Reminiscing the golden Renaissance as an Italian
genius da Vinci sketched an inspirational Odeon.
Reciting ancient verses here, the commodores
came to alieve our woes with charming dances.
Nevertheless we are behooved to take heed
and bring our human race to self-motivation.
Avoiding the propaganda as we humbly adore
our earthly habitat and plant the fertile seeds
to upheave these impressions of a futile battle.
Inaugurating a fresh inception with chances
for every child to become our glorified inheritors.
Restoring the avidness of arts and crafts
with finger painting as fun advances
conveying enjoyment as we cut and dabble.
Listening to each infant's voice as it drafts
its drawing and gently giggles and babbles
with its image appearing as a sweet décor.
Wishing for the evil-doers and unfair proprietors
an unraveling of their concepts as the baby laughed.
Chuckling with a robustness as he entrances
us all as we establish our beloved emancipation.
Criticizing their attitude and flagrant usurpation
of our intimacy we dream in double trances
to separate ourselves from all we do deplore.
Comprehending the entire blatant falsehoods
presented from the industrial-military complex
we recrudesce to our forgotten brotherhood
and scoff at their confusion so miserably perplexed.
Let the radiance of clear thinking give us a rapport
of a charming nature as we speak our gentle peace.
Proclaiming that ruthlessness must halt as we circumflex
the problematic uttering this phrase as we release.
Why can't we reflect on our God-given origin
as we grapple with these impressions of a futile battle?
Encompassing the profundity of Lennon's 'Imagine'
as this idiocy someday will hopefully cease.

Paul Amrod

Paul Amrod

Chateaugay, New York
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