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Published:September 8th, 2010 11:18 EST
Two Poems We Need to Remember

Two Poems We Need to Remember

By Ed Roberts

With all the focus on the proposed building of a mosque near ground zero in New York and a small church in Florida planning on burning copies of the Koran on Sept. 11th, I feel I have written two poems people REALLY need to member for their message applies today as much as it did when I first wrote them.

Prick Me, Shall I Not Bleed


Prick me

Shall I not bleed

Tickle me

Will I not laugh

Poison me

Shall I not die

Wrong me

Shall I not revenge


A young girl

Straps a bomb

Straps it to her tender young body

Walks into a crowd of strangers

And five seconds later

All are bathed in her blood

Bathed in the hate of her fathers

And their fathers before them


Prick me

Shall I not bleed



Who should be playing in schoolyards

Are sitting quietly

As supposed teachers

Fill their minds

Not with stories of hope

But of lies

And anger

To breed yet another generation

Just like themselves


Poison me

Shall I not die


Men board planes


Disguised as friends

They laugh with children

With people sitting in the seats next to them

Smiling at those all around them

Knowing that in moments

They shall drag all of them

Drag them down into their world of hate


Wrong me

Shall I not revenge


All of this for what

Who gets to sit on the right hand of God

A God that no longer recognizes your face

Because it is so covered with the blood of others

A God of love

Keeper of all children

Is this the gift you would offer up to Him



Kill your children

Save them from becoming the monsters

The monsters that you yourselves have become

It is a far better fate

Than what you are building today


If this seems too cruel to you

You have but three choices


Kill each other


Kill yourselves


Or change


Prick me

Shall I not bleed


Tickle me

God let us all remember how to laugh


Poison me

Shall I not die


Wrong me


Ed Roberts 3/31/02




The Man in the Park


I came across a man in the park

He was sitting on a bench

All alone

Holding his head

Face down in his hands

He was weeping softly


I stopped

For a moment

And quietly asked him

What troubles you so

Is there anything that I can do

To help


The man looked up at me

And slowly shook his head


I have three sons

He said

Each a wonderful child

I have nurtured them

Done my best to raise them

Shown them how they are meant to live

Given each

All that they needed


They sound like wonderful children

You have been truly blessed

I told him

Why then are you so heavy hearted


Instead of working together

And fulfilling the dreams of their father

My sons are in the field

Just beyond those trees


Each trying to gain power over the other


From time to time

I can hear them calling

Calling out to me

To come to their aid

To somehow swing the battle

 To their favor


What they fail to realize


Is that I love them all the same


Ed Roberts 3/05/02


When any man falls to his knees and prays for peace,
Who do you think it is that listens?

 If we fail to learn from the past we are doomed to relive it.