Small Note The Prisoners: War, Is This What You Want?

(A poem for President Barack Obama)

War, like this what you want?
the drums of war reverberated,
break up the day that still looks bright,
thousands of warriors step,
hips,
then spewing bullets death.


War, is this that you are considered noble,
Isy Kariman, au mut syahidan?
In order to live a noble or a dead hero?
Destroying the breath of life?
sing the national anthem?
Soul and honor?


War, like the wind roaring in the streets,
as the storm swept desert,
blowing twigs and dust flying,
a clean sweep of grassland,
shed blood splatter,
corpses dying flounder,
cried cries innocent souls,
orphans running around,
hunted dogs starving,
tears,
tears,
helpless.


War, is this voice until the end of life?
Earth is doomed to perish,
man tired of walking whimpering be a victim,
This natural cry sob,
tired raped,
enslaved to the streets in the tradition of genocide.


War, Is it beautiful?
Not embarrassed you? This nature destroyed perish,
debris,
stayed the rest,
vain..

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