Poetry and/against War

In the below, it is said by multiple experts of these few hundred years that there is a strong possibility that most of the lines in the portion, from "Weapons are tools of violence, .." to the end of the chapter, are footnotes to the original text.


...................... TaoTe Ching translated text ......
31. Armies
Armies are tools of violence;
They cause men to hate and fear.
The sage will not join them.
His purpose is creation;
Their purpose is destruction.

Weapons are tools of violence, // from here
Not of the sage;
He uses them only when there is no choice,
And then calmly, and with tact,
For he finds no beauty in them.

Whoever finds beauty in weapons
Delights in the slaughter of men;
And who delights in slaughter
Cannot content himself with peace.

So slaughters must be mourned
And conquest celebrated with a funeral.
................... end of text ..............

The entire Tao Te Ching is a set of aphorisms. I wonder, since they are from so long ago, the longer ones are likely to have footnotes. Thanks for pointing that out Satt.

All right, now for something ENTIRELY DIFFERENT... not that I want to leave the Sages... but I'm beginning to think we ought to have a separate topic about Chinese poetry (which, as you can see, I adore)...

Here for your reading pleasure today is an anthem, one of many, from my youth and one sung joyously while drunk, which can hardly be more Tao. I would say, if you don't know this song you need to imagine its happy, upbeat, whoopee cushion feel.

Reuters (Wire, 1977)

Our own correspondent is sorry to tell of an uneasy time, that all is not well. On the borders there's movement. In the hills there's trouble, food is short, crime is double. Prices have risen since the government fell, casualties increase as the enemy shell. The climate's unhealthy, flies and rats thrive, and sooner or later the end will arrive. This is your war correspondent running out of tape, gunfire increasing, looting, burning, rape.

from
A Chumbawumba Webpage

IMAGINE

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

John Lennon

The following is the last lines of the hymn "To Ares" (Ares is Mars in Latin, you know), which is contained in "The Homeric Hymns" by Hesiod.
(Bold enough in front of Ares (Mars,(L.)) to abide within peace.)


To Ares
Hesiod

..
Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife.

Rather, O blessed one, give you me boldness to abide within the harmless laws of peace, avoiding strife and hatred and the violent fiends of death.

(tr. by H.G. Evelyn-White, M.A.)

Wow... that's a brave thought, Satt, a great prayer. It does take courage to make peace, not war. (These ancients... they knew.)

The Parable of the Old Man and the Young

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb, for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,
And builded parapets and trenches there,
And stretchèd forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an Angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not they hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him, thy son.
Behold! Caught in a thicket by its horns,
A Ram. Offer the Ram of Pride instead.

But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.


More War Poems by Wilfred Owen

Poor America, poor Iraq
Poor America, poor Iraq

All these rounds of solid steel,
Breaks the silence, breaks the skin,
Makes me wonder how it feels,
Being the victim of this sin.
Pockets full of unanswered questions,
Money, life, dead, bills,
And a paper with some directions,
That says "Go there, conquer and kill"
God is not blessing any nation,
Evil is thirsty and looking for fun,
War is his game, his invention,
All because there is money on the run,
This war's color is petroleum black,
A never ending vengeance, poor America, poor Iraq.