Planned Parenthood’s a Euphemism
upon reading March for Life’s annual report
by Roy E. Peterson
Planned Parenthood’s a euphemism
__Covering up the murder
Of babies by abortion-ism—
__We must react with fervor.
What they call “planning” are abortions,
__And not for parenthood.
They harvest baby parts and portions
__To sell for their own good.
The funding by our government—
__A veritable travesty—
Is trafficking the innocent,
__A sordid industry.
Three hundred twenty-eight thousand
__Abortions were reported
In twenty-sixteen, the horror unplanned
__Of souls from flesh extorted!
With revenue over a billion,
__Government funding half,
Half billion for electioneerin’,
__They built the golden calf.
Tax payers must be dumb
__Paying for this insanity.
It is a Socialist pogrom
__That should die in infamy.
Roy E. Peterson is a writer and former U.S. military army intelligence officer who currently resides in Texas.
The Pacifist
by David Paul Behrens
This is just a simple verse,
__With words concise and clear.
Life would be so wonderful,
__Sans violence and fear.
What a fine world it would be,
__If people thought like this:
No man strikes another man—
__We’d all live lives of bliss.
I would never kill a man,
__Although it’d save my life.
I could never shoot a gun,
__Nor stab him with a knife.
Life by far is too important,
__It means too much to me,
For it gives my soul a purpose.
__Allows my soul to see.
That is why I hate abortion.
__It does not make good sense.
When it comes to life or death,
__I’m never on the fence.
When it’s time to leave the earth
__When all is said and done,
I’ll be proud I did not kill,
__Not once beneath the sun.
After fifty thousand miles and five years as a hitchhiker, living on the road and streets in towns and cities across America, David Paul Behrens followed with a career as an over the road dispatcher in the trucking industry. He is now retired and living in La Verne, California. His website is davidpaulbehrens.com.
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Thank you for these fine poems, gentlemen. The issue of abortion is one very close to my heart.
Here is a verse from a poem I wrote in 1982, from the viewpoint of one, yet unborn:
Abortion is the fashion these days,
You can kill me before I’m born.
Trying to get born, so many ways,
My patience is getting quite worn.