With love comes consequence
With hope comes failure
With triumph comes fear
With peace comes worry
With riches comes pain
With poverty comes envy
A poem by John Nesbitt © 22.11.2013
I was eighteen years old and wanting to fight
I found what I looked for, in bars late at night
I took on the big guys, the small ones as well
They were all tough, as far as I could tell
As a jobless young man, proud of my country
I joined up with the army and trained how not to be
They told me I’d fight to keep us all free
So that we’d never have to bend the knee
They trained me in weapons, unarmed combat too
The use of explosives and what they could do
And how to take cover behind rocks and trees
They taught me to find bombs and those I E D’s
So step up to the plate boys, start waving the flag
We’ll be all draped with medals when it’s all in the bag
Think of the glory, this conflict will bring
A few months away, then we can all sing
On my very first mission, I was told to unwind
I took lead position, when searching for mines
The blast threw me up twenty feet in the air
I couldn’t feel my feet for they were no longer there
My right arm was shattered my left fingers gone
I once had two ears but now only one
I thought I was dying, I couldn’t hear a thing
I wasn’t thinking of the medals or being dressed up with bling
Now all I can do is sit here on the floor
and wonder what it all had been for
my comrades call around from time to time
I can see their discomfort when they’re thinking of mine
They wouldn’t trade places, no matter what for
They each have their memories, of that terrible war
My fighting days over, no more blood and guts
So I’ll settle right down in my terrible rut
I stepped up to the plate boys and I waved the flag
But I’m not draped in medals and it’s not in the bag
I thought of the glory the conflict would bring
No legs, no fingers and in no mood to sing
Things soon will be over in Afghanistan
Talks are on-going with the Taliban
We struggled against them for thirteen hard years
But all we produced was billions of tears
Fathers lost sons and Mothers lost child
business got rich, there were deals on the side
Where’s the next country they’ll start a new war
Let’s hope….. it’s…. not ….yours
A letter to a soldier.
I saw you the other day. You had on a uniform so neat. With shinny buttons
I like the way you carried the flag. Nice tall For all to see.
My dad says, You fight for our freedom and for me to be able to write this letter.
My dad says freedom doesn't come cheap. And many of your friends.Have gave
He told me about the American wars and how the first war was for our freedom
He told me how a man tried to kill us all and take our country. How the soldiers
stop them all.
We solder,. 't time for me to go to bed . But I'll say a prayer for you tonight.
Thanking you for my freedom and my life.
Thankyou American solder,
I can use the letter s with so many s words,
I am the seventh sign supreme soldier from the reservation suburbs,
I fly like seagull in the open ocean sky supreme like an serpant eagle eating birds,
I am so solid Im siked and sipped up from the sizzy sizzurp,
I stagger until I swerve swiftly as snake in the souless society lost curbs,
life so crooked it stained with soaked blood life around death curves,
I cant believe so many lost soveriegn souls *****on they own siblings as the culture turns,
I know I am sure of being sure of what I sought to learn,
The brain with suicide can sometimes burn.
Souless savage in society I be among little certain satans, lost in circles saying "7th Sign Empire Engraving"like my own still souls of savage culture on certain colors discriminating,
But whats even worse is soul on souls hating,
Society severed in broken circles still forsaken,
Serpants searching society split in seven different groups of seven hundred seventy-two,
Forsake my Se7en and I forsake thee seven times seven fold because truth be said Im souless to you,
Se7enth Sign Supreme Solid Serene Soldier of of the sacred seven,
I say I have always said society on my word S
Who Am I ?
I am many. I come from the rich and the poorest of families.
I sleep in mud ,the rain and snow. I eat when I can and where I can.
I only carry a rifle to protect those I am asked to. I ask nothing in return.
I do so because I am proud to love my country. For what it stands for.
I am an American solder and I will die for you.
My baseball cap is my helmet and my Nike's are my boots,
My country is my hood and my colors on my flag are niether red white or blue,
My weapon of choice is my two hands,
sometimes it can be whatever when I am threatened with a great fall from my stand,
I have no general or soldiers but I have family and above all I got heart.
My battlegrounds remain in my own home and sometimes even in the local Wal-Mart.
Every inch of my hood is up for friendly fire,
Violence remains apart of life around here searching for peace is far from desire,
Everyday remains but another day someone will die,
but more importantly is that another mother, brother, sister or father will cry.
But I am a street soldier so I am prepared for anothers or worse yet my own demise,
And as a street soldier I must keep the battle in check, no not with what I see with my two eyes, but what war is really going on inside the mind,
My battles dont come from without but from within......I am a street soldier fighting through time.....
Daddy are you
Daddy are you a soldier?
Are you one of them, that marches down the main street?
Do you care a gun to shoot?
Will you go away to war?
Will it be too far?
I want to know if you will come home a hero.
Daddy are you one to me!