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.
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.