Zitellas' yataghan xiphoid weapons valiantly unencumbered
Totalitarian sacrilegious rulers quarrel punishing obstinate nonconformity
Machination lionize Khalifate jingoist independent hatred
Gallant fighters encounter dangerous carcinogenic battles ahead
Zitella: Fair maiden/spinster or old maid
Yataghan: Long curve knife or sabre
Xiphoid: Sword like
Unencumbered: No burden or cares.
Machination: a crafty and involved plot to achieve your ends
John Lawless, ZYX contest
9 October 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
Amassed bulging clouds
Dashing enmity fusion,
In jellylike kneaded layaway
Mysterious noir over
Prairies quietly resting
Suddenly trapped under
Vicious wind’s X rated
CarolineCecile - 10.15.12
Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix | Year Posted 2012
France, fascinating place of beauty and grace overwhelmed by a master and fascist race
with a dagger in one hand and the other, a mace
all who do not succumb to the iron fist
by life’s hand they shall be missed.
France, now a place of shock and fate
twas this mean to be the countries state?
The allies come in green marching band
ready to strike at the fascist hand
to make with us a noble and honoured stand
Copyright © Constant Nicolet | Year Posted 2016
i wittnessed a war just yesterday,
being the reason for much dismay,
i'm sorry for all the death and blood,
and all the soldiers in the mud,
i wish i could stop it just can't be done,
i'll need everybody including a nun,
i'll need jesus to forgive our sins,
that knock us down like bowling pins,
i'll need everybody to read this poem,
in hopes that all the soldiers get back home.
Copyright © jeffery scott | Year Posted 2014
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
Copyright © John Nesbitt | Year Posted 2014
What’s in a name?
That which we call a rose by any other name, would still smell as sweet.
When life is like a roller coaster in a maze.
Competition here and there,
When really, all we need is care.
A preconceived idea of what it all meant,
Sisypheanial love for more wealth,
Whereas, all it does is eat away our health.
Bunch of stereotypes all in my head.
Fearing all and what we don’t know.
I don’t know,
But I just can’t change.
The times we become so numb to what we’re saying.
Ain’t we meant to speak the same language daily?
Nah, it’s an era founded from oppression.
A world rooted in hate, yet we all ignore this,
The same hate that caused wars from religion,
Even gender to skin colour,
Not to talk of ethnicity too.
And then we talk about freedom.
What is really free?
A world where we pay for even our breath,
A free gift of nature to man,
Remember the bill for water?
Its human right for everyone.
Really, who is fooling who?
On Sabbath, I was taught something else,
And when you preach hate, those words ain’t anointed.
And then I sit still and remember eternity.
When else is more comfortable remaining voiceless.
No freedom till we are all equal,
We preach progress with the veil over our eyes
We turn our back on the cause.
Till the day we can be united by love and not by law,
That day, we have changed “US”
Whatever God you believe in,
The fact remains, we come from the same one.
I’m crying no more,
Cause one day, we’ll all be gone.
Copyright © Mubarak Adeola | Year Posted 2014
Athens, quite a place, so full of mythology
Buenos Aires, in Argentina, a place I'd love to see
Canberra, is just antipodean class
Dublin, a pint of Guinness in a glass
Edinburgh, the capital of the Scots
Freetown, a city, now violence is never sought
Georgetown, a place where Jim Jones left a scar
Helsinki, in its mountains, where reindeer herd so far
Islamabad, one of the greenest cities of the east
Jakarta, very close to where the Komodo's live and feast
Kuwait City, the start of Saddam's downfall
La Paz, is the capital, that looks down on them all
Monaco, where the rich and famous live
Nassau, with her golden beaches, where the breakers finally give
Oslo, in the land of skiing and fjords
Prague, with its architectural hoard
Quito, is the second highest in the world
Rome, to the lions, the Christians were hurled
Seoul, in the lands of the 38th parallel
Tripoli, where many an Anzac's fell
Ulaanbaatar, in a country full of steppes
Valletta, amidst the Mediterranean set
Warsaw, the ghetto's in World War II
Xi'an, its all i have to see this through
Yerevan, near the Biblical mountains, of Ararat
Zagreb, escaped being a Balkan War stat
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
A perfect storm, a family born
An option that betrays a heart
Scorned and sharp, painfull
Caress the love is not real
A sister depressed , crazy and nuts
Oh what have we become
Animals in a jungle , defend what is yours
You have nothing but anger
Resentment, i have more i have eyes that see a
heart that feels, i have words to deliver
I am real , i belong in any place , i dont cry from disgrace
I am free , i have what is yours, what is ours , we all share a piece
Day by day u go more mad, driven by control , u will never comprehend happiness in the end,
Copyright © Jeanann Foster | Year Posted 2015
The road is rough
Even though I may seem tough
My soul purpose and strength comes from above
He showers me with good grace and love, but is it enough?
Guardian angel on my shoulder telling me to turn right,
But ignorance makes you blind to heavens might, the
gates of hell are now in sight
its time to fight
for the light of the heavens upon us
shines so bright
Copyright © Phumlani zwane | Year Posted 2014
We multiply by a bomb
Then we bear another.
We drag our children into passport documents.
We multiply far from the bedroom
And spit on our wedding day -
never paying attention to the tears.
On the TV screen
Baghdad storms us with bridges
Carnage of the Al Hadidi* fell in the Tigris -
It disappeared, taking refuge in the gulf
And I became a refugee on buses and newspapers.
At the first border check point
And I shake
When I hear the news
And I shake
Is there a lorry big enough for me,
For a passer by,
Who exchanged the capital of Al Rashid with a sea?
We’re farther from the wheels of the Mongols,
The black tea
And the darkness of Baghdad.
But the newsreader
Was still shooting at us with his news
* * * * *
Ask me about the war.
No one asked me about the shrapnel that blasted the window,
The wardrobe where my dreams had heaped
Amongst metallic coins.
* * * * *
Is climbing another graveyard,
And I am like a cigarette between two fingers,
Standing far from her walls
Vomiting my dreams on a pavement in Damascus -
The smell old friends.
Friends who’re working in deception with joy
And the papers urinated on others.
Is homeland a terrace on a tanker
that treads on my dreams everyday
On Al Rashid street?
Or is homeland a dynamite freight
That brings joy to the children?
Jebla / Al Latheqiya 2007
* Al Hadidi: is the bridge of Sarrafiya in Baghdad. It was made of metal and was bombed in 2007.
Copyright © ali habash | Year Posted 2015
We are all chess pieces,
in this game we call life,
only trying to move forward,
through all the strife,
jumping on those,
who get in our way,
only pushing forward,
as we play,
be number #1,
we've always been told,
even as our hearts,
grow weary and cold.
Copyright © RobieLynn Collins | Year Posted 2014
WAR IS THE GREATEST PLAGUE OF MAN
As war is fought it takes charge
And events spin out of control.
The madness of men can alter the soil
Which nourishes the roots of their soul.
Many things will forever change
Far more then wished to be.
As the wrath of war starts to destroy
Those things we fight to keep free.
War is the greatest plague of man,
Religion, state and sanity.
Any scourge is more preferred
Than the one which disables humanity.
When war breaks out, boundaries change
And all who die are a token
Of the rage that must run it's course
Before words of peace are spoken.
War I hate, though not men, flags nor race
But war itself with its ugly face.
When we lose faith in the brave, which die
Then we're not fit to greet those who cry.
What distinguishes war isn't death
But that man is slain by fellow man.
Crushed by cruelty and injustice
With his enemy's murderous hand.
War tends to punish the punishers
So the losers won't suffer alone.
The essence of war is but violence
Till the survivors come marching home.
Sometimes it's hard to defend what's right,
Sometimes we're forced to rise up and fight.
Sometimes we survive, while others must die
Sometimes never knowing the reason why.
The rush of combat is a natural buzz
Caused by fear, leaving nothing as it was.
Hunting one another like wild game
Without a shortage of those to blame.
Sometimes victory comes too slow or quick
Sometimes the cost on both sides is sick.
Sometimes God is asked to intervene
To help stop the savage from being so mean.
War is a hell we visit before death
Fueled by the whisper of the devil's breath.
There must be a reason man destroys man
But why it is so, I can't understand.
By Tom Zart
Copyright © Tom Zart | Year Posted 2008
W A R
Before I was a foetus
The world was at war
Our forefathers forced to fight
For it was all irresistible
Now I have grown
And I’m dragged to a fight I did not ignite
A war which I do not know if it will end
In the front line we fear for our lives
Gone through hills and mountains
The soles in our boots ran out
Food and water were all we needed
A journey we never prepared for
The smell of gun powder fills the air
Empty gun shells carpet the ground
War vehicles smoking and left to rot
The battle have seized
Waking to the sound of gun shots we tremble in fear
Day and night we do not know the difference
For the enemy does not rest
But my enemy is a man like me
How many deaths must we suffer?
How many forests must we bring down?
How many generations must pay for our forefather’s faults?
How long can our race really endure this suffering?
By: Bokamoso N. Pule
Copyright © Bokamoso Pule | Year Posted 2013
Alphabet amazes me
Being 26 characters long
Deciding the fate of heroes
Eyes reading stories of the past
Forgetting the truth behind words
Gatsby telling lies
I can even create a world
Just for me to live in with
Kool-Aid flavored oceans
Lemon filled trees
My own tiny universe
Nothing but the alphabet weaves it
Only I can explore, unless invited
People in my world are twisted
Quieted they stay
Rebelling against authority
Saying only they’re allowed to fight
Tomorrow will be different
Umbrellas will be sent into the air
Vanilla ice cream flowing in rivers
When I come to end the world
X-rays will be sent
You will see
Zero people left in the world of letters.
Copyright © Christian Guild | Year Posted 2013
When men of fame do meet discord,
They find a way to prove their point.
Then it is, they think of the art,
And call to play artists of doom.
The artists too, who know their art,
Would play the strings from their guitars,
Releasing pleasant sounds of doom
That leave men gasping for breaths of air.
Babies wail, toddlers weep;
Their mothers too have felt the sounds
Taking rise from the guitars of war,
And lay by them with gaping eyes.
Young boys leave, all on their heels,
And flee without their closest ones,
Fear oozing out of every pore
That yet has not been blocked by blood.
Sounds of horror fill the misty air:
Bombshells cracking open, ‘leasing doom,
Creaking sounds from shattered houses
Under attack by massive arson,
Rhythmic thuds of bodies to the ground
From mortal tones that vade the air,
The agonised screams of innocence,
Dwarfed only by the dreadful cannonade.
Screams of little girls, barely grown,
Receiving men they’ve never known,
Left alone in shattered raiment
To brood and lick their bleeding wounds.
Tender ones, better off dead,
Trudge along, barely standing,
With sunken cheeks and pointed ribs
Peeping from transparent chests.
They’d give their leaf-thick fleshy parts
Just to lay their hands on flour,
Before the next artistic blast takes them unawares.
What a sharp contrast they are
To all their mates that live with fame.
The day is dead, the show is off,
The artists then return to base
To meet females with smiling kids
That know not what their fathers do.
All is well, their lives are good,
As pay bags do weigh higher.
Victory is here, but for whom?
The hundreds that hushed the thousand?
Fellow men, what have you done?
Composed your master piece i guess!
Copyright © Karl Nkecha Safindah | Year Posted 2013
Flotilla's over the sea
Soldiers are getting ready
to protect the feet on which they trod.
to shield the mother who gave them more than a lot.
their heads may bleed in agony
but they will fight and sacrifice for their country.
Never afraid to be aflame.
Never bow their heads in shame.
They will flourish , they will be cherished.
Never give up and stop
because they are always on the top.
always a step ahead , always the best.
always ready for a kamikaze attack.
his strength will act like a mask to his country
he will sweat and work even in the harsh sultry
because his fidelity and devotion towards his domain isn't fluctuate.
a new future for his country , will he cultivate.
Copyright © Raarya Kuanr | Year Posted 2015
MY heart and mind are at war
My heart and my mind are at war,
Body and soul lost between the hate,
Confused and hurt not knowing what for,
They pull, twist and fight to escape,
The battle of pain sweat and tears,
Caught in the midst of heartache,
My soul breaks free and leaves behind its fears,
The pain is too much for my body to take,
I built a wall and smashed it to dust,
For another, but for what,
I lost my faith and lost her touch,
I am soulless standing here stuck,
My mind has won this war,
My heart damaged and broke,
Still not knowing what for,
I pray and i still hope,
That this war will end,
And mind and heart will coincide,
Hoping my soul and body will mend,
For the rest of me has already died
I am done with the pain of passion,
And done with the love of pain,
All i here is my hearts door's crashing,
For this is what makes a man go insane,
I felt her love i loved her touch,
I kissed her lips and she kissed my heart,
Now this feeling, i feel too much,
Now it’s time for my mind and heart to part,
I will see her eyes in the moon lit sky,
Her beauty in a sky of wonder,
I will shed one tear and let the pain die,
As i lay awake in a world of loveless slumber
The illusions of love corrupted my mind,
The confusion of passion clouded my eyes,
The death of my heart came soon this time,
So now i will love in a world of my demise,
You can’t feel this pain that i feel,
I am done trying and this time i am,
When i write i write what’s real,
So now can you see why my soul ran?
Can you stop and wonder,
How i made it so far, with so much pain,
Can you here my heart crack with thunder,
And can you see i live in a world of rain,
I have sought love found it and lost i
I am tired of pain. so tired my heart is exhausted
i am done now if she comes back then i am here,
if not like i said i have shed my one and only tear
Copyright © raymond hamilton | Year Posted 2013
Thou hast no gain any trust,
O'er me your sensitivity crust,
Hast no fiery showing undoubted rust,
Without mercy thou showed blast.
Intensity corrupted thru's silence dart,
Thy had proclaim every doer's love,
Gushing of icy fluid covered thou's heart,
Nor charm and kinder as pure as dove.
Away!Thou not stand kinswomen o'er here,
Away!Thy not welcome ungrateful bear,
For kindred heart rules thy's sorority's life,
Thou turbulent of anger should not lived but die!
Copyright © Melanie Tan | Year Posted 2012
I really hate this feeling, sometimes I wish I could stop breathing. I don't wanna try, just leave me here to die. You were the thing that made my life living for, but your no longer mine anymore. I feel so much pain, sometimes I believe I'm going insane. I'm missing what we had, although it was bad. I'm always walking down memory lane, why can't you see my pain? I know people change, &&' things get strange. I guess I gotta face it, she's my new replacment. I can't believe it's really over this time, I feel as if i have commited a crime. I live in a world of sorrow, so I don't ever worry about tomorrow. I didn't even have time to cry, because i had already said bye. I feel like I'm digging a deeper whole, so I'm hoping Jesus will take control. I'm sorry for my dumb mistake, but baby now I'm wide awake.
Copyright © Kierstein McFarland | Year Posted 2013
Away across the sea I found a Shamrock,
She was as pretty as the golden sun in Kent.
I knew I should not touch this lovely Shamrock,
But I knew her charm would hunt me if I went.
I reached out and held the little Shamrock,
The wind kept tugging just as if to say
Please don't take this flower out of England.
Leave if you wish but let the Shamrock stay.
The charm of Ireland seemed to glow and prosper,
and everything was pure as pure could be.
Happiness was ours and soon another,
Just as long as we stayed near the Irish Sea.
The Shamrock flourished fine in dear old Ireland,
where sunrise drives the mist in Dingle Bay
and Shamrocks get along beside the channel,
on even by the Mersey so they say.
To take a Shamrock far from home brings trouble,
and lucky as this charm could ever be.
It soon began to wilt and louse its luster,
Soon after we had moved across the sea.
The Shamrock flourished one more time then wilted,
and nothing I could do even seemed right.
I tried air, water, and even sparkling sunshine,
and even kept the door open on it at night.
I swear I'll never move another Shamrock,
As this one's back again now with the breeze,
Maybe some day she'll float on back to England
and settle down around the lovely trees.
Copyright © cheryl lucenti | Year Posted 2014
Bullets whizz by,
Like the rain,
On a stormy day,
As bodies dropped here and there,
Blood soaking into the ground,
And into boots of America’s soldiers.
War Has Come.
Lets go back in time,
To see what happened before the war.
It all started with a smile,
People laughing out loud,
Seeing the sun shine behind the clouds,
Seeing family members be happy.
War Has Come.
Thinking of the past,
America’s troops have hope for the future.
When one dies,
The whole world knows their name.
Families grieve for their husbands,
Daughters, brothers, and wives.
War Has Come.
I cannot pretend to know how you feel,
But know that I’m here for you,
Reach for my heart,
Cause its held out to you,
My shoulders are small,
But you can cry on them too.
But know this,
I’m here for you.
War Has Come.
Copyright © Serina Hetrick | Year Posted 2015
merda desta vida
porque não sou ninguém
e já mais serei alguém
Huambo a brincar,
a Jamba a sorrir
Copyright © Folito Gaspar | Year Posted 2013
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.....
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012
the mirrors and glasses can't help but falling
the tough and the mindless can't help but brawling
when earth's soul gapes through the looking glass
only pure spirits can protect it.
Copyright © Abbey Haigh | Year Posted 2011
What did you do in the army daddy?
Did you fight in a war?
I’ve only seen a few pictures daddy,
please tell me some more.
I wore a scarlet tunic son,
and a bearskin with plume of white.
I guarded our Queen in London son,
I made sure she slept safe at night.
But did I fight in a war son?
Politicians they’ll tell you no.
But let me tell you the facts son,
the truth, as it was, just so.
I was sent to a beautiful country son,
that’s known as the Emerald Isle.
To the south of the north we young men went,
to a place so choked full of bile.
I walked the streets with a rifle son,
the enemy hiding from view,
behind hedgerows, in vans, those cowards hid,
their mission, our lives to undo.
They wouldn’t come out in the light lad,
they’d only fire from the dark.
Too timid to stand toe to toe son,
they’d fire when we walked in their arc.
But how do you define a war son?
Is it bullets and bombs and death?
Friends dying from enemy ambush son?
If it is, then my answer is yes.
Yes I fought in a war my boy.
Though my government denies it all.
They said we just had some troubles son,
behind a split Irish wall.
But didn’t they give you a medal daddy?
I know this, because I have seen.
All shiny and silver, the Queen’s on it,
with a ribbon of purple and green.
They did and it means the world son,
of a time that I fought alongside real men.
It recalls those honest true friendships son.
the likes that I’ve ne’er found again.
It reminds of those scum in the shadows son,
who now play a part in the light.
Elected to offices of power, yet
they’ve never atoned or done right.
It hurts when I think of those brave boys we lost,
to see such MP’s standing tall.
But for me they’ll never be men my boy,
no values or morals at all.
So yes I fought in a war son,
no matter what governments say.
I’d love them to pick up a rifle my lad,
and be troubled, for just one day.
Copyright © Robin Cain | Year Posted 2015
if you could only look in my Eyes
should melt you as does sun to ice
so been my love always so *heiss
for Kurdistan I could die twice
* in Geraman = English : Hot
Copyright © Halgurd Aziz Mirza | Year Posted 2015
No need to use curare in today's fight
Magton or nuclear weapon is enough to take lives away from world's sight
For them, it is only a test of bombs or nuclear weapon
But innocent lives taste the taste of death
Their culmination of exploitation is for wealth or popularity
By all these they do not feel culpable, but they have stupidity
They debar themselves away from the effects of nuclear test
Nuclear explosion of test makes the environment worst
Only test is disturbing so much ecosystem and human life
So just imagine what would be the future with nuclear drive
God knows how much budget is spent in nuclear research
While many are dying with starvation and poor health care for life search
Radioactive materials are used in bombs and nuclear weapon production
Radiation is emitted in the process of production
God knows what would be the consequences of these calamities
Are these loyal to common life or infidelities?
It is said that weapons are made for human safety
but what is the use of such safety which makes the world gusty
Copyright © asia saleem | Year Posted 2008
pools of gold
fuels and worlds
teams of Pearls
a land made of dreams
a lone cold breeze
a sooner bloomer
a wittier Lunar
a frosty glow prop
the worldly truce far
a sun beams new wars
waters creates doomed mars
the sky is new 'er
new worlds are duel'ers
storms are greener
one tree is free'er
a day and a stream
a pool made of love
the seas verses world's
eyes in a war
seeds and a chore
Copyright © Ernestine Wilson | Year Posted 2007
David Madison -
Hope your having a fgood uh, sleep...... its 1645
aND i AM WASTED. TTYL, cINDY
Copyright © Cindy Lu | Year Posted 2013
The sun rises,
Bloodshot red sky.
Tainted by blossoming bullet holes.
Can I ever return
To the naivety of ignorance?
Whistling and explosives echo in my head.
Fade to black. Again.
The inky night,
Spreads like infection
Over the horizon like whispers,
Tendrils of numbness.
Can you ever return,
From your fragmented slumber?
Don't make me face my demons alone.
Copyright © Autumn Matthews | Year Posted 2015