War is BAD!!! But How to End it?

war

Bloody, ugly, dirty, and just plain disgusting
Gruesome, murderous, downright horrifying
And army banners claim screaming
“The Purpose of All War is Peace”?!!!

This contests all our God’s work
And glorifies Hitler and all the invading Turks
Which makes me cry at this world’s plight
Isn’t complete disarmament our birthright

War isn’t a solution to anything
Just keeps creating dissatisfied and angry beings
Continuously trying to gain some kind of power
With which he can rule over the other

There is only one solution to this
To go back in time and kill the first person
who even thought of war so that the world’s
Devoid of it and can loved one another

The Average Inexperienced Writer

block

Experiences make a writer
But do they make an honest man
Or a good person
Or simply a person who has morals
And does not give up his conscience

It makes me scared when I run
Behind these experiences that can
Make me the most amazing writer
That’s why I always take a step back
When such opportunities knock my door

And so I’m right here
In this free verse atmosphere
Just writing my thoughts out
Without any second thought
In an average man’s words

The Critic in Me

critics

I am a person
Who regularly writes poems
And then criticize them equally as much
And let myself down in my own accord
And find it hard to pick myself up

I am a critic
Who usually finds some good
In every single piece of art
But always end up putting myself to shame
By comparing my work with theirs

But I am also a writer
Who can sometimes write something good
Something I can be proud of
And not be bothered about criticizing it
Isn’t that what we must do

The critic in us will always complain
And tell us we’re are not as good as him/her
But when we shut him off and start writing
And then we can make our own piece of art
Without the critic nagging over us

And when that critic sees that work
All he can do is stare in a simple disbelief
Questioning whether it is me who actually wrote that
And immediately stops bothering us
Even for a little while which seems perfect

The Voice

The Voice of Man is Dead
Because he is who is living in dread
Of the lack of knowledge about anything
Of the lack of voice about anything

Society manages to suppress his Voice
And make every man their own play toys
With every man becoming the slave of another
Just so that he can get a bit of a breather

But why do you want to stay normal
And become what the world calls formal
Just think of being devoid of the freedom in chains
Just raise your voice, make freedom come in your reigns