I do not know?
Dear Sir, my innocence is gone now, no more fear
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here.
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen,
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain!
I was crying; I was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened.
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end.
I begged you to stop and looked into your eyes,
there was a reflection of a cruel world, that’s what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did,
Nobody knows that you made me bleed.
Dear sir, my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was so blind!
having hidden hatred inside, a virgin died.
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories,
time doesn't heal all wounds, that you marked,
yes, you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My innocent world was shattered by your touch
Hope no one ever has to experience such
For all the pain, all the cruelty, thank you very much!
Copyright © Farhana Akter | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
Memories of a Green Beret
“Where have all the soldiers gone, Long time passing,
Where have all the soldiers gone, Long long time ago,
Where have all the soldiers gone,
Gone to graveyards, every one.
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?"
(an old anti-war folk song from the 60's)
Ho Chi Mihn Trail....'68
Ten warriors camouflaged in wait
Prepared to deal a grisly fate
Hunkered down in jungled hell
Assured they've set the ambush well.
In silence they lay upon the route
When 'Charles' walks in…. he won't walk out.
A cacophony of fire and screams
Laid down with deadly skills, this team;
With claymore mines and booby traps
Left fifteen fragged and torn or zapped.
A trail once quiet, now instead,
Was piled with black pajama'ed dead
A kill zone full of empty life,
From M16 and combat knives.
Metallic smells of blood and gore….
Back to the bush, fear to the core;
On the run, escape, evade
This area where the trap was laid.
Bust thru brush at breakneck speed
Thru swamp and bramble, cutting reeds.
They're on your ass, their voices near
Being captured is your highest fear.
If you're caught you won't survive.
They'll disembowel you, flayed alive.
Your final screams, heard near and far,
The price you pay for what you are.
In time you finally get away,
But it was the VC's judgment day
Praise God we lived, is what you pray.
Old memories of a Green Beret
As on and on this game of chess,
Your mind starts crumbling with the stress.
More bloody trails and bloody hunts
And soon gone thirteen bloody months.
You pack for home and say a prayer
For those you know that's still back there.
The sights and smells flash on and on
Though fifty years have come and gone.
They steal your brain and steal your calm
Sometimes you think you're back in 'Nam.
And still today played o'er and o'er
Are vivid flashbacks of the war:
Young warrior's lives, gone much too soon
Dying moans and pumping wounds
Flashing guns in hot fire fights
In wet and frigid jungle nights.
Camps attacked in human waves
Death piled high in bulldozed graves
Fear like ice picks in your brain
Comes with horrid scenes and pain
Prisoners tossed from chopper flights
Blood smeared chaplains give last rites
Green bags filled with body parts
Images not for faint of heart
Fear that drives you up the wall
Soothed by weed and alcohol
Village kids all blown apart
Blood and guts served 'a la carte '
Air support with steel and flames
Dog tag heaps with buddies names
Rot gut beer, Saigon whores
Seeping rotten jungle sores
Now, most are gone, long died away.
While others here are silver gray
Their comrades gone, now mostly dead,
They fight the fight still, in their heads
Late of night, in sleep they shout.
"Medic here, he's bleeding out.
Call in support--lay down some fire,
God help us all, they're in the wire."
I pen these words and I decree
They were ten times best what I could be.
My praise and prayers I'll not detract
For the many who never made it back.
From long ago and far away........
These memories of an old Green Beret
Author's Note: to all my old comrades, MANY WHOM never made it back
...De Oppresso Leber....rest in peace old friends-- Sergeant First Class Frederick Moore
, 6th SF, 7th SF, and 46th SF Thailand......
Copyright © Frederick Moore | Year Posted 2014
I want to drown my urge to die
I want to kill my pulse inside
I can't breathe, I'm paranoid
Everything in life I avoid
Don't speak to me, I'll look away
Inside my eyes is just decay
I'm already dead, but have yet to die
Why do I keep my body alive
My soul is dead, eyes are lies
So is the smile I hide behind
Pull the plug, I'm a fake
In a nightmare and I cannot wake
Drown me! I'm flooded in pain
Please help me regain
Some peace, some rest
I want to die to live again
Set me free
Slitting my wrists isn't working
The more stares I get
The more I become numb
I just need to be gone
Eliminate my pain,
I'm already out of breath
Suffocating on my hopelessness
Every day I am alive
But I'm craving to die inside
Curved smile because your so naive
You think I'm happy
Yet I'm being crushed
My head is overflowing
With these thoughts that are too much
One word, suicide
Sparks a light inside of my eyes
I don't want to pretend to live
Let me go, flood me in sin
There is where I want to swim
Six feet under the ground
Don't be selfish
And keep me in pain
To tourture my lifeless body again
Let my body float soundly
Rushing water, ocean salt
I promise I won't feel it at all.
End it, hold me under
Then bury me so I can slumber
Goodbye lifeless eyes
As I'm dying I'll be coming alive
Deleted from my mind
As I leave this world behind
Floods my lungs
Leans in for a kiss
Together we sink into insanity
And drown in infinitys abyss.
Copyright © Karissa Kelley | Year Posted 2013
As I stand here alone in the cold wet snow; watching it come down all around its quiet a show.
My fingers are frosty and my face is a cold shade of blue; my toes feel like ice; yet this quiet , peaceful place to me is like paradise; from what I have seen once before in a dream from when I was a younger teen .
White and puffy flakes feel like feathers in my hand; the heavier snow engulfs my dark clothes in a sheet of white creating a blank canvas of the pure white; as clear as a image of a dove in flight.
Snow is snowing down all round and their not a sound to be had; apart from the echoing wind that seems too surround like a storm of sound which blows my clothes and hair around.
I look up at the sky but there’s no detail in sight just a sky of white like a dime light. I see trees that once gleamed green back in the summer and spring now nothing more than bare trunk’s so empty from the leaves it once used too bare; from the branches that now seem to lead nowhere.
This forest once filled with small creatures and birds now empty expect for one living thing a lone boy taking in this majestic scene where animals had once been.
With everything around so silent; its Like are world of violence thought out the ages has written its final pages and brought about a end to are world of violence and bloodshed ; A world where everyone but me is dead .
I feel like I’m the last living being left on our planet; no birds no bees only little old me in this magical world of white I feel I can take flight; and be free not held down by the clutches of are harsh society.
This snowy place will allways hold a special memory for me; A remembrance to that snowy place I've once been.
Copyright © Marko Kyoto | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
This space becomes a pressing malice
to which death rapes the beautiful girls
into submissive screaming.
There can’t be a breath of fresh pain
to suffocate this kindness.
Because life begins to die
as soon as the breathing stops.
I fume in the burning rage of salient slicing to which gages the envy.
Hate keeps the blood from staining my clothes because my clothes are my nakedness.
I feel not a pin prick in this gash that is my perversion .
Numbness cuts this distaste against this wall of bloody suicide.
So now my end is the beginning
for nothing in my words describes
the space of violence in my head.
Copyright © Matthew Robison | Year Posted 2008