These Soldier Christian poems are examples of Christian poems about Soldier. These are the best examples of Soldier Christian poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
His daddy is fighting in Iraq.
His mommy is fighting tears.
His brother is fighting death.
He is fighting his desolation and fears.
Friends are but a dream
and companions are an illusion.
School is a concentration camp,
but he stands, though alone, in the midst of confusion.
His training school is loneliness.
His milestones are fears, thrust in lies.
His only weapon is faith
and his bullets are soft "hallelujah" cries.
Strength left his fragile body
and he lost the fight in life so coy,
yet on his knees he conquered agony
and I call him the little soldier boy.
h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that
determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,
I don’t want to fight
I’ve been here just a few long days
I’ve still a year to go
There’s not too much to do out here
The days, they pass so slow
And lord, it gets so blooming warm
It’s not the place to be
If one’s looking for a comfort zone
And sweet tranquillity.
The Cong, they send their missiles in
The guns they roar so loud
They hate our guts, behind that wire
They’re fighters, and they’re proud
These folk, they want to keep their land
And I guess they’ve got their rights
I don’t know what we’re trying to win
But I don’t want to fight.
Oh, I don’t care about Vietnam
I really, truly do not give a damn
I just want to go back home
And be just who I am.
Three hundred and sixty days to go
I think I’ll die out here
If net through this fighting thing
Maybe, I’ll die of fear
I have a wife and two sweet kids
The baby I’ve not seen
But here I am in Vietnam
All dressed in jungle green
The voice of racism preaching the
gospel is devilish a fake church
called the Prophet Muhammad a
terrorist forgetting God is not
religion but a spiritual bond and
Jesus is the most quoted profit in
the Koran they bombed innocent
people trying to murder sudaam
when you gave him those chemical
weapons to go to war with Iran this
is the information that they hold
back from Peter Jennings cuz
condalisa rice is just the New Age
Sally Hemings I break it down with
critical language and spiritual
anguish the Judas to hang with the
guilt of betraing Christ you
murdered his religion and painted
and white translated in
psychologically tainted philosophy
the conservative political right wing
ideology glued together sloppily the
blasphemy of a nation got my bakk
to the wall cuz I'm facing
assassination Guantanamo Bay
federal incarceration how could this
be the land of the free home of the
brave indigenous Holocaust and the
home of the slaves corporate
America dancing offbeat to the
rhythm you really think this country
never sponsored terrorism human
rights violations we continue the
saga El Salvador in the contras of
Nicaragua and on top of that you
still want to take me to prison just
cause I won't trade Humanity for