Taking a Stand

by Mushroom Montoya

Mutiny is punishable by death

Or a life of imprisonment,

And so is cowardice

In the face of battle.

 

And isn’t it cowardice

To stay quiet,

Obeying orders

While shutting off our minds,

 

Knowing full well

That our heart is watching,

Our mind is racing

To disengage from the battle

 

Of right and wrong,

True morality,

And the consequences

Of obeying orders?

 

Farmers and fishermen,

Children and their mothers

Are not a danger

Or a threat

 

To the powerful

Big gun battleships,

Fast flying fighter jets,

And life-ending machineguns

 

Of the mighty USA.

 

My heart begs me to stop

Obeying orders

To kill the named enemy

In the name of freedom.

 

I am not free

When I am ordered to kill

A person who has done me no harm,

Whose only crime was being born

 

In enemy territory

 

How do to apologize

To a mom and dad

For killing their son or daughter?

I was just obeying orders?

 

That will never suffice,

Never revive the dead child,

Never give them relief

From never ending grief

 

And now I wash

Over and over

The blood on my hands

That are permanently stained

All the way to my heart.

 

Therefore, I protest

This unholy war,

Knowing the potential consequences

Of disobeying orders,

 

Of leading a protest

That can be labeled a mutiny.

But I must take a stand

Or die from my own

Cowardice.

 

 

I Was Water In Viet Nam

by Mushroom Montoya

I was water in Viet Nam

Washing away the sins

Of deceit, hate, and greed,

Failing to feed

What my soul desperately needed

When no one heeded

The call for Peace.

I was water in Viet Nam

Trying to douse the fire

Of the self-righteous liar

Who told us we were on the right

When we were the blight.

I was Water In Viet Nam

Drowning 

In my own ocean.

No Escape Clause

 I am forever bound by that promise.

When Morality Plays Opossum

By Mushroom Montoya

.

She opened her mouth, blooming

With kindness that lit the whole room

As she sat on a broom

To fly into a world of contradictions,

.

Where warriors rule with guns and blade’s

Claiming they are doing it for freedom’s sake.

They blow up houses and schools,

Proclaiming they are protecting our homes and children.

.

She zooms hither and yon

Hunting for the anyone

Who understands there is no morality

When men play war.

.

But no one has ears sweet enough to listen

Except for the smallest of children

And mothers and fathers whose babies

Were stolen by bullets and bombs.

.

War is where morality plays opossum,

While glorifying tanks and drones

That crush our hearts and break our bones

And entices young boys to play the game.

.

She alights on cannon,

Beaming her radiance for all to see,

Singing a song of being in love,

The soldiers refuse to agree

.

That their war is wrong,

Even when they are

Sitting on a child killing machine.

‘

They pluck out her plumage of honesty,

Slap her in the face

With the label of traitor,

Sending her home in disgrace.

.

That has not deterred her,

Nor should it deter us

From shining the light on morality

When it plays dead.